


Lovehammer: The Scattering of Serenity

by Bluepencil, Charles Bhepin (Bluepencil)



Category: Sailor Moon and Warhammer crossover
Genre: Adventure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-26
Updated: 2010-09-25
Packaged: 2017-10-15 16:16:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/162599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluepencil/pseuds/Bluepencil, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluepencil/pseuds/Charles%20Bhepin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Standard fanfic disclaimer here, none of the properties referenced in this work is owned by the author. This story is intended for non-profit entertainment purposes only. As before, please set page view to 3/4 or 1/2 to preserve formatting.</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Opening

**Author's Note:**

> Standard fanfic disclaimer here, none of the properties referenced in this work is owned by the author. This story is intended for non-profit entertainment purposes only. As before, please set page view to 3/4 or 1/2 to preserve formatting.

 

 **It is a Time of Legend.**

 **It is The Twilight of the Great Crusade.**

 **With the Age of Strife ending as the boiling currents of the Warp recede, allowing again interstellar travel, the broken host of humanity could once more meet each other. It is not always a happy reunion. Mighty heroes and vast machines of war battle for the right to rule the galaxy. As the being known as the Emperor of Mankind pours forth from Terra his vast armies to claim the galaxy, alien races stir. The brutal tide of elite warriors have smashed many alien races and wiped them from the face of the galaxy, and older, stronger, but perhaps not any wiser powers prepare for a future being bent towards man's supremacy. This is the Emperor's vision, and very little can withstand his intricate, ruthless plan.**

 **Gleaming citadels of stone, steel, and gold celebrate the Emperor's victories. A million worlds sing praise of the epic deeds of the heroes of the Imperium. First and greatest among them are the Primarchs, engineered superheroic beings who lead their Legions of Space Marines to victory after victory. They are unstoppable and magnificent, the pinnacle of the Emperor's genetic experimentation. The Space Marines are the mightiest human warriors the galaxy has ever known, all but tireless and without peer in combat among their alien enemies. Organized into Legions of ten thousand Astartes, they conquer the galaxy each in the name of their Primarch and the Emperor.**

 **Chief amongst the primarchs is Horus, called the Glorious, the Brightest Star, favourite of the Emperor, and like a son unto him. He is the Warmaster, the commander-in-chief of the Emperor's military might, subjugator of a thousand thousand worlds and conqueror of the galaxy. He is a warrior without peer, a diplomat supreme. He is the morning star, poised as a herald to bring humanity to a new bright golden age.**

 **And yet, it is not to be. The Master of Mankind had decreed it. Long had he foreseen the creation of his children, but a mere hundred years just before their creation, chosen to alter the terms of his Great Crusade. A herald, never the master, the Wolf howls in the light of the moon. For the Emperor is a patient man, and ever-curious, and his plans ineffable.**

 **The galaxy must have peace. It must know Serenity. The Emperor gambles greatly, but the prize is domination not just of one galaxy, but of a universe long left fallow.**

.

= **][** =

.

 **LOVEHAMMER** : The Scattering of Serenity

.

= **][** =

.

 **Prologue**

 **Zymb-Vuanga Hive  
Yndonesic Bloc  
Terra, M29**

The pacification of Yndonesic Bloc was the last task in the Unification War for Terra. The monstrously cruel Cardinal Tang proved that there was no such thing as an inhuman act, for one knew with keen familiarity that there was no act a man would not willingly commit. The man who would be known only as the Emperor of Mankind walked through the barren, pitted wasteland that once was a channel of trade from mainland Asia into the Pacific. It was now the Celeves Plains. The last relic of the once-mighty Pacific was far to the East, past the purpling skyline, in an artificially-maintained ocean and its useless paradise archipelagos. The Pan-Pacific Tribe was in the ring of Hive-cities surrounding that.

The golden-armored being stood there, and all around him were broken remains of machinery and what had once been men. Terra was rife with techno-barbarians, and not even his chosen warriors escaped unscathed from the battle. He cast his mind back, further and further into the dim recesses of history that only he remembered, and now only just barely.

 _Moluccas_. The word rolled off his tongue, its taste spicy with the flavor of his own long, twisted journey. Not even M2, but the first millenium and a half. Beyond that, even his intellect began to fade off into the obscurity of time; too many memories, melting together in the nostalgia of his youth, all he could recall now was vague feelings of distress, wonder, and enthusiasm. The touch of mortality. Even he thought there could be an end to his struggle.

He breathed in the tangy Terran air. Thirty thousand years, from one end of the galaxy to the other, but it begins again where it first started. A little further north was the Magelanic Rift, an old and forgotten thermal borehole. He was the one who named it, and no one else recognized the label. It had become an obscure little verb in High Gothic.

The Emperor looked around. He was done. Terra was once again won. The Warp, though still turbulent, was growing calmer by the day. It was as he had foreseen. His Work could now proceed uninterrupted. The Age of Strife was an unavoidable piece of his plan, but it was still a mighty inconvenience. He closed his eyes and felt his land. He felt solar wind caress the skin of the world, and felt the pulse of molten currents far beneath his feet. It was not something that could be done with any other planet. Much as he loved Terra, with long familiary it had grown too small for such as him. It was the cradle of the mind, but one could not stay in the cradle forever.

He smiled. That had certainly been a surprise, Zakharov's return. Almost five hundred years earlier than what he'd predicted. When Man finally met Ork, he was caught unaware about the alien's depth of brutal cunning, but not helpless. In fact, mankind was perfectly primed for the Alien Wars.

It was a pity, what happened to Manifold Six, but... as the first stars of night appeared and the familiar shape of Luna claimed the sky, he remembered... Terra first. His mother and wife. All of humanity was his child. No Planet could ever shake his loyalty. It was just too unstable. Even he'd been tempted by the power of the Flowering, but in the end... it would have been a crutch. A shortcut straight into a dead-end. Species-death.

"Humanity will be no slave to any alien mind." he said to the wind. "We will be better than that."

He remembered the fifth millennium clearly. It was his second birth, and the staggering realization of just how powerful he really was and how inflexible and enduring were his obligations.

He supposed he should feel triumph about enduring this far, but it was one more battle. Milleniums passed by in a blur; and battles both physical and mental and spiritual were unending. Killing human beings, the very people he was supposed to be protecting, he could never feel any glory in that. It was the slaughter of infants. It was the repudiation rather than education of of the ignorant. There could never be any satisfaction. It was a task, his duty, nothing more.

Alone and well away from any eyes, he thought about allowing himself a moment to slump his shoulders, and laughed derisively. The weight of his duty could never be too much for him to bear. He was certain. His greatest creation was himself. The dead were dead. Maudlin sentimentality would not help them any. The best tribute he could make was to make sure that their deaths were not in vain.

Ten thousand years. Twenty. Thirty. Just the blood he'd personally spilt would fill up a lake. Blood alone would not make any man a god, despite what old moustache-face had said. Little Bathory's been offering blood to the wrong diety. Ah, too bad for young Vlad, he'd been too late to recognize the corruption.

Even he could feel tired, but once more the core of his personality roared in its savage persistence. Too many faces that only he now remembered, too many voices binding him with promises. The Emperor looked around, and wondered what about this battlefield, so indistinguishable from so many others, that could make him think back through his unnaturally long life. Tanks torn open and battle walkers in pieces, bleached skulls and armored walls scorched with plasma- the price of hubris. He could still feel regret, it was better if this bloodshed could have been avoided, but it was necessary; and so he'd done it. What were a few million compared to thousands of billions? They would be better for this, and Man, torn and covered with scars, with their last ounce of courage, would once again reach for the unreachable stars.

His was a long journey and a heavy burden, not easily shared. He'd had many companions, but inevitably like all mortals they died or strayed from the purpose. Even here, at the end, he was utterly alone- as was meant to be. No mortal could look upon his Work and not, in the ignorance of their flicker-lives, recoil in horror. He had few that he could trust with a large enough slice, but always, always, their journeys must end before his could even be close to completion.

The Emperor knew his purpose, and had begun the next stage of his Plan when he felt the gods die. The pantheon of the Eldar, in their death-throes pulled the boiling currents of the Warp into the new feature of the galaxy - the Eye of Terror. The Emperor glared at the distant speck. The Enemy that he'd fought for all of his existence, the cursed Chaos. Soon, they would have again a reckoning. When mankind rules supreme over the galaxy, he will make sure, that they do not the suffer the folly of the Eldar.

He let out a sigh. As ever, the work was far from done. Still so much to do. He looked around. More horrors he must commit, to save humanity from an even worse fate.

Again, unbidden, a memory bubbled to the surface.

 _\- Abba, Father, all things are possible to thee; remove this cup from me; yet not what I will, but what thou wilt -_

He remembered well what was spoken to Heremiah: _'This is what the Lord, the God of Israel, said to me: 'Take from my hand this cup filled with the wine of my wrath and make all the nations to whom I send you drink it.'_

He breathed in deeply. All had gone as he had foreseen. A thousand years shaped mankind in sharp, precise cuts.

Though almost a god, with powers beyond comprehension, the man known as the Emperor was still a man, and could father children, though very rarely and an even more remote number showing any abilities beyond normal. His true essence lay in his soul, his mind in the Immaterium, and the flesh he wore was but a shell he could reshape at will. He was a shepherd of Man, and from those of his descendants that he laid bare the obligations of his blood, expected the same dedication. All must drink from the bitter cup.

Violence was man's nature. They can be stopped for a time, when they begin to loathe that part of themselvesl but that would lead them incomplete and vulnerable. Mankind must heal completely. He would make them drink; for the most potent medicine always had an unpleasant taste. The wound must be reopened, the soul must knit.

The Emperor cast his gaze around, to burn this carnage into his memory. It was the price of his ascension. He searched within himself - he could feel regret - could he feel shame? Yes, he discovered, he could. His life was a litany of little failures, not triumphs, learning from mistakes, and his joy had ever been to watch men stumble upon myriad discoveries that he in his foresight simply did not think about. He focused on events, on choices, but mankind's power would be discovered and deserved. Scientists and statesmen he'd guided through the ages, and this... unsubtlety, this blatant force, though necessary it was a discordant note in his own personal history. For him to act was to rob mankind of its own potential, if just for a time.

He had to weigh it. What was a few centuries, even a few millennia, to an ordered galaxy? Perhaps, once more, he would just vanish and let his name become myth. Man, unfortunately, had a tendency to kill each other and ruin their very means of progress in the name of one who could do nothing but to watch, lest he worsen the situation by killing mankind's ability to think and act for itself.

His vision went into the future, and saw mankind occupying the space left by the Eldar. A psychic race, protected from Chaos. A powerful race, claiming a thousand galaxies. A race worthy of being the New Ones, and among them New Man would not be alone or needed anymore.

He nodded to himself. He would have it all, for only then could he finally test himself. How strong was he? Strong enough to let it go? He wanted to laugh. At that point, it would not matter. There would be others more than capable of wrestling the Work away from his grasp. Anything was worth that. He was old, but he had not forgotten the face of his father.

He turned to return to his commanders, then stopped short. Something was strange. Something was there, suddenly. He looked up, towards Luna, whose face was now hidden under a web of lights and installations. If he considered Terra, mother Gaea, as his metaphorical wife, then the moon was his sister. Through many millenia its soft light held him as he plotted and moved while mortals slept.

The Moon was... strange.

The Moon was young again.

The Emperor blinked, making sure he was not mistaking it. Yes - that rush of power, that lingering scream in the bare edges of his psychic senses, it was real. Something, or someone, had torn through the fabric of reality. Smoothly, softly, like a drop of water off a bamboo leaf into a placid pool. Not the gong-like arrival of a ship out of Warp, nor the keen slice of the Webway intruding into the physical universe, or the howling invasion of the beings men called 'Daemons'.

The universe blinked.

Impossible. Luna wore its oily visage again. And yet, there was something new, something that could not be. The Emperor was a man of considerable psychic might, a bastion of strength unlike any other. He touched every mind for miles around for every second for every day, lightly and without effort. This strangeness in the air... this mind... it could not have sneaked past him. In the years before the Age of Strife, he'd journeyed the galaxy and its partook of its wonders. He had beaten a C'tan into submission, and not even Lords of the Necron could hope to trick his senses.

And yet, here- so close, dangerously so. Even he could be slain, though his essence could remake itself from a single cell, from strands of his original DNA in the blood of his descendants. He'd traveled, and even among the Eldar at the height of their power, none could match the presence of his other-self in the Warp.

This one... was a mind like his, and yet utterly unlike anything he'd ever seen before. It was doing something strange to the Warp. Where it lay, the Warp was calmer, almost glassy. All around was chaotic as ever, but that one little spot was like an island amongt turbulent waters. That was unheard of. The Warp was constantly shifting and inherently wild, filled with ravenous entities that fed on living minds. He had lived with their chittering and their temptations since the day of his birth, but had grown used to them that he could tune them out with hardly a thought. He knew they hated him, for not only had he laughed at their power and their vows of obedience in exchange, as nothing that they could offer that he could not claim for himself, but because his immense presence in the Warp could tear apart the very patterns that made their identities. His was a maelstrom among lesser whirpools.

This was uncanny. He made his way towards it, more curious than concerned. He clambered through broken terrain, farther and farther from the base camp. If it was a trap, then they had baited it well. No mere physical object could compel the Emperor, but a puzzle was something he could unravel. A part of him supposed that this was another reason that the creature known as Tzeentch was so opposed; because he solved so very many of them.

He topped a rise and saw the source. Below was a child, probably not even a month old, wrapped in swaddling clothes that barely protected from the cold.

Interesting. As he'd expected, the calm did originate precisely from a mind barely formed yet already filled with staggering power. It was leaking. He leapt down and made his way to the little figure. The influence on the Warp did nothing to impede his own physical progress. Already he could see the baby's lips quivering in its meager attempts to shiver. Powerful, maybe, but still too vulnerable. The Emperor picked up the child and used his bulk to break the wind. With his mind he warmed the air.

He reached out with his physic senses, and rather than forcing through the odd region diffused his and split the approach. Physical effects were not stopped, but anything trying to touch directly from the Warp was instantly becalmed. Interesting. Not a null, not a blank. The child in his arms was a girl, he could tell from the passive scan of her mind.

"What are you?" he whispered. He looked past this incarnation and into her past life. What he saw surprised him.

She was, like him, a reincarnated being, powerful enough that the core identity could persist despite time and external manipulations. Unlike him, however, rather than reincarnated from thousands of souls who would individually be lost in the Warp, she was only one. Another impossibility. He was as he was because he -couldn't- reincarnate; he was now too powerful for that. Humans actually grew stronger from reincarnation, each time becoming a new soul to add to their previous sum of experience. This one... the only way he could explain it would be an unbroken chain of reincarnations many, many thousands of years of vibrant purposeful lives.

He frowned and looked deeper, moving as gently as possible. He could simply overwhelm her calming effect on the Warp; his own identity was a far more tighly-packed pattern. His very soul was Order, pure Law, and strangely enough in much the same manner as hers. There, in the very center, barely more than a pinprick, was the key to her past.

He saw a great kingdom in the system of Sol, a golden age for all humanity. Each planet held its own culture and wonders, all of them living worlds, Warp-work on a scale to rival the Eldar at their height. They were protected by powerful female soldiers wielding the fundamental forces of the universe. He frowned. That did not happen. Humanity had terraformed Mars and built a web of floating cities on Venus (its atmosphere was of more value for its chemical soup rather than just living space). He was there when the Humanity decided to move father Sol and all the Family much closer to the galactic core, a blade aimed towards the heart of the Eldar Empire.

He'd lived for thousands of years, guiding empires as they rose and fell, the fertile ground dead civilizations serving as inspiration for the one who would come next. None were meant to last forever. This one, this Empire of Sol, this shining peace... even if it preceded him, then there should have been artifacts to their technology. If this should arrive far in the future... it was as repellent as it was humbling. It was the complete opposite of his Work, extolling the few rather than uplifting the many, but at least humanity was safe and at peace. It could not be, not as long as he existed. Yet there were no falsehood in her memories.

His massive intellect turned on an issue. Such a place, with so much power and joy, surely they wouldn't be so inept to let this precious child out from under their watch be taken by accident or design? He continued his perusal of her memories.

What he saw changed his frown into a snarl.

 _Chaos._

The child squirmed a bit in her sleep, and the Emperor calmed himself. Connected as they were, the girl would be sensitive to his moods. He was incredibly powerful, and from what he could tell she would be as well. But she wasn't, yet. He would have to be more careful.

He saw Chaos descend upon the empire. He saw soldiers fight bravely against daemonic hordes, grotesque monsters that laughed as they stripped flesh from the bone and rent bodies asunder. He saw the guardians of the planets fight bravely against overwhelming odds, refusing to give an inch that wasn't soaked in the blood of their enemies. He saw them fight, he saw them kill and he saw them die.

He saw that something was wrong here, a history bent from the outside. He saw someone trapped inside a dark room, screaming. It was not supposed to happen this way. It was not supposed to happen so soon. The princess was supposed to have lived a while longer, to have loved, and that echo through time would serve as a gathering light. The guardian was betrayed. Her divinations had lied to her. Someone or something had tampered with the message from father Chronos.

And one by one, worlds returned to lifeless husks. Mercury's libraries burned. Mars, her forests broke apart in the chill. Venus choked to death. This worthy Work was cast down, and a metallic laughter issued forth from the sun. In the end the leader of this horde confronted the child's mother, not in the throne room but at the nursery. She begged, but it was for naught. She turned her back and clutched her child to her bosom. Just as clawed fingers of someone she had once loved grasped her waist, she finished her risky gambit. With her power fueled by her lifeforce, and the prayers of all her people, she banished the daemonic horde. She gathered the souls of the slain, sending them on the path to reincarnation. But the horde was near-infinite in number, and the souls of the dead in the countless millions, and still the very source of the corruption fought being torn from time. It drained her soul, and he saw with wonder and a little awe, lesser lights turning back from their road into renewed life, to add their own little sparks in the darkness to hers. One by one, bit by bit, the force was helped and it held, and that powerful being of Chaos, screaming in rage, was likewise banished back into the dark.

The Queen fell on the ground, in two halves, bleeding. He lowered his head in respect. That courage and that love for her child, a worthy leader. She was wise, to preserve one last aspect of her people, that they could begin again. With her final vestige of power, she too sent her daughter into the timestream, trusting the guardian locked in the Gates of Time to safely guide her to the future. This princess, her heartbeat and the light of her soul, would serve as the beacon for all the rest. Eventually, all would wake again. All but those consumed in the effort to give their loved ones a future.

And yet, he saw, it did not go as she had hoped. As a final parting blow, Chaos redirected the reincarnation of the princess and her royal guard, sending them past the barriers of time and the universe. They veered wildly off their path, eventually ending in a different realm altogether.

"So that is it," the Emperor muttered as he left the child's mind. "You come from another place entirely, little one."

His vision returned to that nursery, and for a moment there, had the queen been looking at him? Him, who had destroyed so many that he had built, so that the next generation would be a little bit wiser than the last? Her expression was pleading.

And his Plans all broke. He wanted to rage, but could not. The golden path he'd so carefully laid frayed and then reformed into a whole new set of responsibilities. He wanted to accuse the universe, but as ever it was stark and impersonal. Chaos only pretended it was an eternal force. There was something stronger. Irony, perhaps?

Possibilities flicked across his face. He had resigned himself to his bloody road, and suddenly, so very very interesting... a little path off the beaten track that until now he had not considered as feasible. The risks were great, but well within acceptable limits. All it asked from him was more patience. His was an ambition that knew no bounds. There was no price he would not pay.

He raised the child up gently, trying not to disturb her. She wiggled a bit and awoke, looking at him with eyes as blue as the sky. She smiled and reached up, cooing as she grabbed a lock of his long black hair. He smiled a bit as she tugged on it. She was fascinated by the long, flowing strands, wrapping her hands all around them.

"I need a name for you, little one," he said softly. "Give me a little bit to find something suitable."

He turned and made his way back to the camp where his army lay, chuckling a little. He couldn't wait to see how his generals and advisors reacted to this.

 

 **=][=**

 **  
**

Already preparations were underway for the Emperor to march through the Hives and for all of humanity to celebrate the return of peace and progress. It was all for naught if their Emperor was not there. They did not dare, of course, to demand anything from their mighty master - the new man who freed Terra from the grip of its many tyrants, but his absence left a hole in their hearts. His Custodes, his companion-guards, were in a panic. What use were they, if they could not protect their liege? What the hell was the Emperor up to, he should be smart enough not to go off without protection! That bloody idio-... no. One of the golden-armored warriors refrained from punching the wall. He had no right, he owed the Emperor almost literally everything. His task was to obey, no more and no less, no matter what.

"Valdor."

The freshly-promoted arms-master of the Custodes turned about sharply and thumped his fist on his vambrace in a salute. For a man towering over just about every human born, the Emperor could be damn sneaky when he wanted to be. "My lord." Relief flooded him. Inside his mind, he tried to keep back an indignant, somewhat rebellious thought. He knew the Master of Mankind could read minds.

The slight amused twitch in the Emperor's face showed that the Custodes was not entirely successful. "Find some baby milk formula, would you? A lactating mother would be better, but let it be clear that this is an request, not an indignity. We have conquered, we are one people again."

"My lord?" Constantin looked up to see the awe-inspiring sight of the Emperor, holding an infant in swaddling clothes in his gauntlet, and seemingly engaged in a staring contest. Blue eyes stared into golden glowing pits. The baby cooed and reached out, playing with the ambient energies.

The Emperor pulled his presence into himself, blinked, and stared out at the world with warm brown eyes.

The baby looked puzzled. The Emperor smiled wryly. "Little one, you're going to make me fight a whole new war, aren't you? It is one battlefield where even I do not reign supreme." Not that he had an issue with that, since half of his soul was female and had even given birth on several occasions; he was humanity's mirror, all of it, and the power to create life was one that he'd always respected. He was pure power, human limits were his by sheer whim. Unfortunately, reshaping his form at this point would add complications to the relatively simple task of leading his great and successful armies. He turned to see that Constantin Valdor was still there, staring with mute disbelief. He'd seen the Emperor go from a coldly focused scientist to an avatar of war itself, but never had he seen the Emperor look so... paternal.

"I have lived many lives, and raised many children. This burden is not unknown to me." the master of mankind said evenly. "This child... is of vast importance to My Great Work, and I will not let her out of my sight. There is too much risk, she is unable to defend herself in her current form." He forced his mind back on track. He had a tendency of focusing on curiosities to the point that he'd stop time while thinking it through. He lightly poked at the Moon Child's forehead with a clawed fingertip. Innocent blue eyes looked fascinated at the distorted reflections on the gold-plated metal. "Go and stockpile milk and diapers. Quickly."

"By your will." The Custodes saluted again and all but fled.

An immortal mind in ruthless efficiency flashed through countless possibilities in an instant, and resolved into three different scenarios; ever-dragged into the same three eventualities no matter how many variables he tried to shift. Two of them involved his death. Having lived for over thirty thousand years, shepherding mankind from the first crude huts and into building vast Hives, that he would ever die had never entered his mind. There were few, not even among the ancient Eldar, who could even come close to the power of the shining light of his soul. It was literally inconceivable.

A power equal to himself. Once again, the Emperor smiled wryly. How so utterly unprecedented. He'd believed for so long that the only way for that to happen would be to create them himself.

So desperate was he for answers, that he had allowed himself to be trapped at the other end of the galaxy when the Age of Strife descended; just for the chance to speak to the last tendril of the Old Ones, maker, masters and murderers of the Warp, and as expected they had condemned him for trying to walk in their footsteps. They had let themselves die for good reason. He was agonizingly alone. He had to claw his way all the way back to Terra, trying to marshal ships through vast Warp-waves that even he could not calm. And while he was away, his home fell to the grip of tyrants.

Necessary. To be hailed as a savior, to have unquestioning obedience so he could proceed uninterrupted in his Work, of course the people must be in the position to be saved.

"Oh, by the Lady of Pain, Kadmon, you've done it again." Malcador the Sigilite drank in the implications as he approached. He walked with a long staff, the only hint to his advanced age, for his beard was still black. Sheer force of will kept him young enough to keep up with his mentor.

The Emperor turned to see a wizened old man in deep purple robes approach. "Ah, old friend, behold my discovery."

"If you picked a rock off the ground and polished it to see a diamond, that would be a discovery. Being hit by a meteorite in the face, that is something different." He peered closer to the child held protectively in the Emperor's massive Power Fist. "Ugly little thing, aren't you? Like a hairless rabbit."

The child began to wail.

It appears your sentiments are returned." the Emperor replied. He sent out a soothing wave of power down, and was mildly delighted to see that it dispersed around the child. The strangeness of it attracted her attention however, and tiny little hands grabbed at threads of color and sound that only she could see.

"I already have too much to do, Kadmon. I will not be your babysitter." It would have surprised many to know that behind the public reverence displayed by Malcador, there was the comforting brusqueness of long friendship. Too many adventures, too many shared humiliations... and he was one of the few who was granted a large enough glimpse of the Emperor's Great Work, and accepted his role in it.

It would be a bright and terrible Imperium, but as they intended, would fall in the end. The next would be stronger, wiser, the form of man more fit to rule multiple galaxies. There was a reason they modeled so much on Rome.

"Pity. I do remember you were not so inept at it." The Emperor stared at the baby in his hands. "Hmm. Now what should we call you, little one? Perhaps... Pallas Serena." Serenity. Unlike all other psykers that ever encountered him for the first time, she was the first not to melt into a puddle of gibbering terror in the realization. He was just one big toy to her. Strange. His heart felt lighter. Was he smiling again? He was used to being underestimated or overestimated, but there was few like fatherhood to make a man feel humble again.

Malcador leaned on his staff. "This little Rabbit will bring us trouble. Mark my words."

"What makes you say that?"

"I can see the new path clearly enough. Daughters ALWAYS bring trouble. Sons are meant to trouble their fathers, but daughters are a constant worry. Sons could eventually be trusted to become rebellious and independent in their affairs, but to a father his daughter no matter what will always be his to protect."

The Emperor stared into his little bundle of Serenity and looked into what might have been. "At least, she will now have some higher standards than just some fool in a tuxedo." The Smoking Bomber, indeed. In the future that his new daughter could have lived, Serenity would have _slain herself_ out of heartbreak. The little Prince of Earth would have to do quite a bit more than that to earn his father in law's regard.

.

 **=][=**

.

* * *

This story is born off a thread at spacebattles(dot)com and a portion of it is embellished (with permission) out of the story post by Silver_Surfer. Kudos for kick-starting it, guy. There is also another continuity of it, a very excellent account by Arkado, whose title we have shamelessly ganked as the label for this whole thing. Lovehammer. If and when that story gets posted on FFNet, it's going into my Favorites list SO HARD the list will liquefy and reform into silicate pools.

Anyways, that's all for now. This story is going to come in anachronistic order, jumping all over the place with flashbacks, so the first real chapter will have to be long and relatively self-consistent. Nevertheless, at a mere 6 words, this is a departure from the normal form, isn't it? ^_^ No more monster prologues!

edit:

Kadmon comes from Adam ha-Kadmoni, the Primordial or Heavenly Man; just another title and not a name. Names are kind of a moot point for a being who has had so many of them. Read the wikipedia entry; it made me smile.


	2. Wolves on the Edge part one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **LOVEHAMMER: The Scattering of Serenity**

**LOVEHAMMER: The Scattering of Serenity**

 **Wolves on the Edge**

part one

 **.**

 **.**

It had been but a few days since the Emperor found Serenity. The Emperor was terrified. It had been too long since he experienced such a base emotion. He'd been idly mingling in a reception with the new ruling class over Terra, establishing the ties that would enable self-sufficient rule when he would leave the homeworld later in his conquest of the galaxy, when he felt the enormous burst in the Warp. Lesser psykers in the palace collapsed, numbed from the evocative fear. The Emperor frowned, and pulled with his psychic presence. Instantly his armor appeared in flash of golden light and settled around his form. His being glowed with godly might and with a crack of air he teleported to the Imperial Creche thirty kilometers distant and nine kilometers higher.

For all her power that equaled his, his new daughter Serenity was ridiculously fragile as an infant. All the possibilities, the vast net of new opportunies her existence provided, would crash in the multitude of small thing that could end her life at such a vulnerable point in time. He feared for the child.

Yet none could be more terrified than the wet nurse selected to care for Pallas Serena. She was pressed to the wall, pinned by invisible waves of power. She had thought it strange that the Emperor could have a child so newly-born. Chosen at random and placed in a random room within a wing heavily but invisibly patrolled by the Custodian Guards, it would have been incredibly difficult to trace the Emperor's intent.

"My Emperor! I beg you... save me! The child is a witch!"

"If you have tried to even  ** _think_** of harming my daughter, thine death will be a long time coming." he growled back, his eyes burning pits of sunfire.

Her mind blanked out and near destroyed itself in terrror at his words. "I would never dare, Lord! I... I... was just trying to comfort her! She was crying so much, and suddenly... this! I did nothing to provoke her!"

The Emperor sifted through her memories with practiced ease and found no falsehoods there. She had been quite competent in her duty, giving of her own body's sustenance without rancor to grant those of noble the antibodies and natural resistances their sheltered upbringing would normally deprive them.

He turned his attention towards the gilded crib at the middle of the room and slowly forced his way through the viscous air. Opening his arms out, he tried to contain the Warp-pressure. Surprisingly, for all the boiling energies in the phase beyond mortal perceptions, the Warp was still clean.

Interesting. Demons popping out of warp of Warp burst for random slaughter and mayhem was something he would never have to fear from Serenity. He unclenched his fists, reached out and finally touched the crib. He saw Serenity's face contorted in her own infantile anxiety.

The pressure upon the nurse eased and she fell roughly to the floor. She cowered there, wide-eyed.

"Leave." said the Emperor. "You are not needed here."

Bowing and constantly mouthing words of gratitude that went unheard, the nurse fled. She screeched in surprise and fear as the door opened in her face and Malcador's frowning visage lay on the other side.

He stared at her dismissively, and strode in. "I had nothing to do with this." he said evenly to the Empero's back. "I was in my office. You had commanded that someone of our caliber of psychic ability would always be near, and I had been maintaining passive awareness. No one approached this little Moon Rabbit."

"I do not sense the presence of the Ruinous Powers here." the Emperor replied, puzzled. So what was causing this?

ө  
 **=][=**  
ө

 _No one chooses to be an Astartes of the Black Legion._

 _Either it is forced upon him by his fellows, or it is forced upon him by his own fate._

 _None who enter the Black Legion are undeserving of their punishment._

 _No one leaves the Black Legion except through death._

 _We are the Unforgiven._

 _These words rang in the great hall of the Black Legion Battlebarge GRANDIS SERENA. It was an ancient ship, crafted even before the Great Crusade in the Lunar forges and served until the Heresy as Imperium Silver Ship. The Imperium Silver Fleet was a powerful mobile force that with unmatched speed delivered supplies, order, and communications between Terra and the many different Legions operating across the galaxy. Never directly engaged in warfare until the Horus Heresy, it could attain such speed through the Warp by being the personal Fleet of the Princess Herself and guided by her immense calming influence upon the Empyrian. The ship was seized by the Sons of Horus when it fought a delaying action to allow the Princess to flee towards Terra._

 _That it remained in the hands of the Black Legion was a sacrilege and an insult to many in the Imperium. However, its long association with Serenity enabled to do as the Black Legion proclaims for itself - to be captured by Chaos and emerge, if not unscathed, then at least unbowed. The ship when recaptured by the Night Lords was a puzzle. It was uncorrupted, daemons being nothing more than scorch marks where they dared touch the hull. Yet, by definition of having been under Chaos control it was corrupted._

 _"You all know of those early centuries after the Scattering." To the Astartes, the name of Horus was worse than filth, referring to the event as the Horus Heresy would be to grant the traitor more glory than he as worth. The speaker, Antonius, wore an unremarkable black beak-faced helm rather than the skull-faced ones customarily worn by Chaplains. "When the Emperor could still speak now and then with his own lips. It was His Holy Word that those among the Sons of Horus who truly repented and fought to drive the Primarch from his madness could be granted the gift of dying in the Imperium's service. They would not be forgiven, but their geneseed could be preserved._

 _This was a mercy far beyond what they deserved. But it is the Emperor's uncontestable will, and in the dreams of the Primarchs they felt the distant plea of Serenity, and so it was granted to those unworthy ones._

 _They would not be allowed a homeworld, they would not be free to recruit Initiates other than those chosen for them by the Custodes. All heraldry erased, all marks of honor denied them forever, the Sons of Horus became the Black Legion. All that remains is this -" and here he touched the only bright mark on his flat black armor, the white crescent that looked like a closed eye "the Waning Moon, the mark of our sin._

 _The Luna Wolves had been the First among the Legions, the most faithful, and now they are nothing._

 _We are the Black Legion!_

 _We hold within us the geneseed of the Arch-Betrayer Horus, and it is our duty to the Imperium that such cursed power be burned in the cleasing flame of war, to let it be excised alongside the enemies of mankind. We hold within use the taint of Chaos, and it one we contain with sheer hate. Not for Horus, for he is not worthy of even our hate! Spit on his name, and walk on to things that have meaning. But for Chaos itself, and those fools who try to tread the road we trod upon and the false powers we spurned! DEATH TO TRAITORS!_

 _We are not proof of redemption! As long as we live, there can be no forgiveness! We stand here, having touched Chaos and endured its promises, only proof that those who fall into Chaos are weak and mankind would be well rid of their existence. If we were but stronger we would not have fallen in the first place, but that we stand here is proof that it is a -choice- to become irredeemable!_

 _We are the least among the servants of the Imperium, and yet in our small way we are greater than the most exalted among the heretics and daemonic. We are Astartes, and we are made to remember what it means when Astartes attempt to put themselves about their duty to the Emperor and mankind. Such hubris deserves the ultimate punishment!_

 _We have fought the Traitor Legions time and again, renewing our ancient vow with each fallen brother, but no greater hatred can we give than to those knowing Chapters that turn willingly into Chaos and betray the Imperium. Once more we are called to strike the memory of our failure upon those who believe they can reach power through the sacrifice of the innocents. Serenity's peace be upon their victims."_

 _"THE EMPEROR'S WRATH UPON THE BETRAYER!" was the retort of a thousand strong._

 _"The Wolves no longer howl at the Moon."_

 _"LET THE DARK DESTROY THE DARK!"_

 _"Brothers! I offer you the Astral Claws and Huron Blackheart, the Tyrant of Badab!"_

 _"IN NOMINE LUNA, THEY SHALL BE PUNISHED!"_

ө  
 **=][=**  
ө

Waves of power rolled over the two. Unlike pillars of stone set upon the sea, they would not be worn away by this tide. The child was still crying.

"There should be a list for this." Malcador muttered irritatedly. "Is she hungry? Wet? Dry? Cold? Has she soiled her diapers?"

The Emperor's nose crinkled slightly at the last. "I do not believe so." He didn't want to check.

"Then it is probably a bid for attention." He couldn't order his master about, but Malcador's pointed look implied it was not his responsibility.

The Emperor approached the crib and made soothing noises. Carefully he picked up Pallas Serena and wove a weave of his own power over hers. Her crying subsided to hiccups, but still her tiny body quivered in distress. Her face was twisted as if in pain. "This does not seem to be an attack, but it is clearly being imposed upon her from without."

"It is almost as if she's having a vision, is it not?"

The Emperor paused. "If it is, then I have no way of stopping it short of cutting her off from the Warp completely." Visions were not dependent on age, but power. This he had confirmed from studies with the Eldar. It was just that beings tended to develop both power and control with age. "The trauma of that would likely kill her."

"Why not just read her mind and find out what disturbs this child?"

"I cannot. I can read her past life well enough, but not her current state. Serenity barely has any mind yet at this point in her life. An infant has not yet any way of perceiving long-term memory. Even short-term memory is extremely limited."

"If that is so, then this likely not to cause her any permanent harm. It is likely she would forget it in mere moments after it is done."

The Emperor frowned, remembering one of many desecrations that foolish Men had attempted to harness the powers of Chaos and take some control over their own doomed future. "The Periculosus Composito Infanta."

Malcador nodded. "The Very Dangerous Baby Array. Is it the same?"

"An infant should not have to experience sensations its body is ill-capable of even comprehending. Her heart could burst from the strain." Nonetheless a speculative glimmer appeared on the Emperor's eyes. "Are you thinking what I am thinking, old friend?"

"Unless it involves cheese, likely not."

"Her Warp power could be turned inwards, the same way we preserve ourselves through the ages. If we cannot save her from this torment, then at least we can ensure she endures through the event." He nodded to himself, a plan already forming. "And yes, it does involve cheese."

Some time later, a Sister of Silence arrived with a plate of smoked cheese. "Why do you constantly mock me, Kadmon?" Malcador said with a long-suffering sigh.

"You had best be ready to accept the penalties of constantly playing the sarcasm game around me, cutter." The Emperor cut a thick slice with his Power Claw and munched upon it as he prepared to thicken the Warp-weave around Serenity. The Sister of Silence showed great effort just to keep from being blown away by the unseen waves of force. "Eat the rest." he commanded Malcador.

Malcador stared at the shaking girl-child, up at the Emperor's worried expression, then at the remaining slab of hard cheese almost as large as his own head. This child was bringing out the more playful side of the Emperor. Unfortunately that just meant more subtle and more persistent assholery. He sighed for a third time and reached for the dairy product.

ө  
 **=][=**  
ө

 _Of the Chapters represented there, only the Salamanders were also a First Founding Chapter. The Space Marines representing the other Chapters felt a commn distaste for the presence of the accursed Black Legion among them, but as the Salamander there showed no sign of his own displeasure then they chose to limit their own disdain. Two of them were Salamanders Successors, after all. Vulkan's get was one of the more numerous chapters, with their impressive fleet and extensive experience in boarding actions._

 _In the expertise and methods of their heavy combat teams, the Salamanders and Black Legion Marines had many similarities, both with larger pools of Terminators and Devastators. The Black Legion in strategic doctrine was the exact opposite, with very little transport capability for a space-bound Chapter. There was such a dearth of information about the Black Legion, helped by how so few saw anything worth learning about these who were often thrown into the worst of battles against Chaos, that no matter who won the Imperium may benefit._

 _"You are Captain of the Second Company, correct?" asked Cobalt Magyar, Captain of the Marines Errant First Company._

 _Tanos Kirlian nodded briefly. The Chapter Masters of their respective Chapters had already smoothed out broad cooperation, but the Black Legion had just freshly arrived._

 _"And the Black Legion have brought four full companies for this campaign."_

 _"It is as you say."_

 _"Where is your First Company commander? It is an implied insult not to be present. Is this command council not worthy of his presence?"_

 _"No, I assure you, brother-Captain, no insult is intended. It is simply our custom. The Captain has no voice in command affairs. First Company is a purely combat company, the first to the fray. They are the likeliest to achieve absolution in death. Command decisions begin with the Second Company, who have yet to earn the right to serve to their utmost."_

 _The Errant sneered. "A deviant custom."_

 _"The Captain of the Black Legion First Company has taken a vow of absolute obedience and humility. He has nothing useful to say." spoke the Brother-Captain Plia'Des of the Salamanders. "They will fight where and when told to fight. What more is needed?"_

 _Magyar deferred in respect to an honored brother of the First Founding. "With a company of the Salamanders, two of the Scorpions, Minotaurs, Star Phantoms and the Exorcists, and the full Chapter of our Marines Errant and and the Fire Angels, I ask if the aid of the Black Legion is even necessary."_

 _"Indeed. Such a force should be more than sufficient against the Astral Claws and their puppets. The seven of us should be more than enough against even the addition of four full Chapters of the Executioners, Lamenters and Mantis Warriors." added Hagar Vorfid of the Scorpions._

 _"The scouring of the Astral Claws and the punishment of Huron Blackheart are our responsibility."_

 _"You dare claim this glory for yourselves? Renegade filth, how can we trust you won't fall to Chaos again and add your strength to his heresy?"_

 _Kirlian took deep calming breaths. "You can't. This is why the numbers are weighed against the traitors. You must fall upon us in case our faith falters."_

 _"Then I fail to see the reason in adding the risk of your defection to this campaign."_

 _Kinkab Mahe of the Fire Angels responded in a surprisingly reasonable tone. "Indeed. Why would the High Lords grant this honor to such a Chapter such as yours?_

 _"The Astral Claws would not be the first Traitor Chapter to be destroyed utterly under our hands." Kirlian replied softly. "It is a black mark that rebellious Chapters have been cut out the Imperium by our blade, but better we take the burden of this sin than have others besmirch their brothers. Huron Blackheart in his treason has expressed admiration of Horus during his vile time as Warmaster of the Traitor Legions. That is intolerable. That we will not accept. He must be crushed."_

 _"Do you fear that another such as Horus may rise?" Plia'Des asked curtly._

 _Kirlian shook his head and placed both palms on the round ceramite table. "No." He looked weary. "That heresy will not happen again. We will not let it happen again. But we more than any Chapter know the stages of the descent into Chaos, and by the burden the Emperor himself placed upon in the time of the Second Founding... where a Chapter seeks to exalt itself above their duty to humanity, we shall be there to deliver the lesson of our subjugation. There can be no mastery over Chaos, only defiance or consumption. To purge the taint is the task granted to us by the mercy of the Princess Herself."_

 _"Do not defile Her Name with your lips!" snarled Magyar, drawing his sword._

 _The Captain of the Black Legion gave not the slightest flinch. He bowed low and said evenly "I apologize."_

 _"Tch." Disappointed at the lack of reaction, the Errant sheathed his blade roughly. "What kind of gutless Astartes are you?"_

 _Kirlian even smiled slightly at an accusation that would have driven nearly any other Space Marine to a rage._

 _"The Astral Claws must be eradicated." the Captain Plia'des continued. "What of the others?"_

 _"If they have fallen to the worship of Chaos, then they too shall be purged. However, if they are but driven to fight under the banner of the Tyrant without yet taking that last irrevocable step, then I humbly implore you that the Astartes of the Emperor should not be wasted."_

 _"Hah. I knew you could not be trusted. Already you bring the voice of treason and weakness into this council!" Magyar shouted, slamming his palms onto the table._

 _Alehandro Mori of the Minotaurs raised his hand in a calming gesture. "You ask of us that we show mercy to the betrayers? And what would you do with them if they are allowed to seek for absolution. More like the Black Legion we do not need."_

 _Kinkab Mahe added "If you seek the gratitude of other fallen Chapters you will be sorely disappointed. The Black Legion are the first among heretics, and none shall ever forget. Your lives are endured only as far as they may serve to prevent a more worthy Marine from falling in your stead."_

 _"As it should be." Kirlian intoned. Technically, the first among heretics would still be the Word Bearers, but he chose not to inflame the council any further. "But as well you know the Black Legion may not expand any further. Our presence here states that if we can be granted mercy, then they whose sins are much less may yet redeem themselves in pain and fire and duty. Thus with this small service needless bloodshed may yet be spared."_

 _All other Space Marines there, other than Plia'des, scowled at his cloying words. They looked from him to the Salamander, wondering just how different two Legions of the First Founding could be. The Astartes of Vulkan kept their traditions well and were worthy brothers to fight alongside by any standard. Now this, even from such a tainted geneseed, they expected more from the spawn of that which mortally wounded the Emperor Himself. Such foulness, so unlike what an Astartes should be, could barely be endured._

 _The Salamanders understood. They had families, treated their citizens well, theirs was a humility born of contact with common humanity. We are the Black Legion; he told himselg. Bow your heads, and give thanks. We are less than even the youngest child of man. That innocence is something worthy of being protected. It is the power with which that Serenity touched Horus. We have no pride._

 _Kirlian accepted the ignorant persecution of these younger chapters, and directed the rage that should have gone into hurt pride into ever more fervent but carefully-controlled hatred against Chaos. It was not the Four Ruinous Powers that they fought, but All That Is Chaos. Even Malal._

 _"The Black Legion will not be granted the assault on Badab. Remain at our borders and prevent the regrouping of forces." spoke Captain Plia'des. "When it is time to break the defenses of the Tyrant with our bodies and our faith, only then will you be called to expend your last moments in service of the Emperor."_

 _Kirlian kept his face calm. Of course, asking for the Emperor's Mercy and the the Peace of Serenity was not enough to be granted such peerless grace. They were in many ways the 'Last Chancers' among the Astartes, accepting only chaos-touched and the mutants, who do battle with their own affliction with every moment. Awareness of one's own failure was often so painful that so many of other Chapters would choose to submerge instead into Chaos rather than accept the burden of their flawed mortality. The betrayers would have to earn first even the chance of being heard to petition their own salvation, until then the Black Legion would burn them with the same all-consuming hate that they had for Chaos. All that traitors deserved was death, even repentant ones._

 _Only the strongest may come out of Chaos with his soul intact. He pitied slightly his younger brothers, for they have not yet been tested. He only hoped they would never have to face such a thorough examination of themselves, lest they too be found wanting._

ө  
 **=][=**  
ө

Custodes entered, carrying bundles and bins of sensory equipment. The Emperor directed them, laying out the sensors all around the cradle. Serenity was still fitful, but had calmed down sucking on a pink pacifier.

"Where is all this energy coming from?" the Emperor said with a frown as he stared at the instruments. "Here, watch this waveform. She is not pulling it from the Warp, and if she was forcing it out of her own reserves then there should be some turbulence at least."

"Are you certain" here Malcador paused to burp, "that this calmness really emanates from her or is more a side-effect of her existence? Like mass and gravity?"

"Her presence in the Warp is tiny, well out of proportion of the Warp shadow she casts. And it is selective. I have no problem weaving her essence, as she seems to recognize I have no harmful intent."

"Hmm. Then I surmise that the improbable result is that she is drawing from the Warp in a way these instruments cannot perceive. After all, they only show results through comparisons with a baseline."

The Emperor looked speculatively at his daughter. "If there is no change from her initial scans, then it could also be that she is doing it -constantly-. Fascinating. Malcador. A metaphor."

"A stream of water from a faucet upon a creek."

"Would not moving water upon moving water just cause more agitated water on contact?"

"That is true, but if you watch the contant rate of water falling from the faucet it seems as if a solid glassy pillar. And where that falling stream touches the flowing stream, the little circumference would be utterly still while still in constant movement."

The Emperor nodded. "Excellently phrased, you truly have a teacher's heart."

"All that I know, I learned from you, shīfu." Here he hiccuped again, and blanched at the acrid taste at the roof of his mouth. "I do hope you are not entertaining thoughts of meddling with her genetics to take advantage of this talent."

The Emperor looked insulted. "Of course not. I would not meddle with her genes any more than my own. That aside, at our level the double helix is just one more tool for the mind."

The door opened again to admit a tall Custodes with a biomechanical eye. This was Rasulov Rahman, Constantin Valdor's predecessor. Seeing the Emperor focused on his scientific studies, he approached Malcador instead and whispered of developments outside.

"My Emperor, the woman who served as a nursemaid, should she be silenced?" Malcador asked. "Many people are on the verge on panic about why you suddenly disappeared in full battle armor."

The Emperor just grunted, indicating how inconsequential all that was.

"We can not hide this Moon Rabbit for much longer however. If you want better readings, perhaps we should bring the Adeptus Mechanicus into our confidence."

"What, that nest of gossippy hens? Hah! Not yet."

"It appears they do have some inkling now." Malcador began to read from the dataslate that Rahman brought. "Glorious Emperor and Blessed Avatar of the Omnissiah, praises and salutations... blah blah... eternal service... meander meander... points of interest... bleat bleat... sensors on Mars... jargon jargon... request information that we may honor the scientific partnership between Terra and Mars to your eternal glory... Blubber. Odment. Tweak. Message ends."

The Emperor looked up. "You do know you must get over that little grudge with the Magos Biologis sometime."

"One of these days, my Emperor, I shall stop setting his face on fire when we meet. In any case, this proves that they do have the instruments you require. What do you wish to be done?"

"Slate." Rahman handed it over. The Emperor quickly typed in a message in Machine Cant and gave it back. "There. That should hold them for a while."

Malcador glanced at the message and smirked. "Indeed."

Rasulov Rahman didn't understand what 01110011 01110100 01100110 01110101 meant and had no desire to do so. It was enough that the Emperor decreed it, any more from him would be despicable presumption. The Custodes bowed respectfully and left the two to their fussy task.

 **.**

 **.**

* * *

The setting of Lovehammer has multiple continuities. Offhand, I can say there is at least Arkado's version where Saturn/Hotaru survives in her adorable and indescribably powerful canon form with hints that others may Senshi may have (though all Primarchs are absent, as in 40k canon). There is the more 'mainline' Lovehammer snippets over at the Spacebattles thread that shows the Senshi growing up alongside the Primarchs, with bundles of lolwurthy and daaw characterizations. It's almost a shame to have Heresy happen, such happy times should last forever. And then there's mine, which integrates elements of posts by Barricade and drakensis, where Heresy does still happen but ends with an Imperium slightly less wounded but still bitter.


	3. Wolves on the Edge part two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **LOVEHAMMER**

**LOVEHAMMER**

 **Wolves on the Edge  
** part two

ө

= **][** =

ө

 _The hunger for power and recognition within Lugft Huron, Chapter Master of the Astral Claws, had long been ignored as the typical ego developed by chiefs among the superhuman warriors created by the Emperor. The Astral Claws was one of the Astartes Chapters who had dominion over a civilized productive world instead of drawing from their new recruits from feral worlds. He had assigned himself as Planetary Governor, and had proved an able enough administrator. He had a right to be proud of his accomplishments both on and off the battlefield._

 _The Badab War proceeded well for Lugft Huron. It was he that actually brought the attention to the Inquisition, claiming that the Trade Lords of Khartago were under the influence of Chaos. Too often had pirates intercepted or destroyed shipments that supported Badab, and the geneseed tithe that should have been sent to the vaults of Mars were tragically lost. Then the Trade Lords had the gall to arrive in force into Badab, claiming over one hundred fifty years in back tithes._

 _Huron Blackheart claimed that he had sunk most of the subsector's resources into building up the Maelstrom Warden's defenses and rebuilding the Chapter from its campaign against the Word Bearers on Sartilla two hundred years ago. It was only in the last sixty years that they had the geneseed to spare. Since his utilization of resources benefited the sector as a whole, the Trade Lords had no right to demand immediate recovery of the tithes, as to support the security of the entire was the function of the tithes in the first place. He had requested an extension on the default, and the delegation were suicidally stupid to insist._

 _He had but obliged the fools. His appelation Blackheart was from his zeal for order and disdain for the concept of mercy, not unusual in a Night Lords successor Chapter. With his rhetoric about essential rights of the defenders of the Imperium, he had swayed the Maelstrom Wardens and much of Battlefleet Maelstrom _to his viewpoint_. His Articles of Just Succession, sent to the High Lords of Terra, pointed out that protest against local authority was not rebellion against the Imperium on the whole, if the authority was likely to do harm and commit heresies upon the Imperium's interests. The Imperium was better served by securing the Maelstrom Zone rather than coddling the greed of merchants who produce nothing of value._

 _It was just too bad that the Chaos influence upon the Khartago sector was Huron Blackheart himself. Just as the Tyrant of Badab became thus to prevent any more pointless coups, he had engineered events in the nearby Khartago sector to excuse his need to invade and 'impose order and a return to useful Imperial rule'._

 _The Khartaginian instigation proceeded exactly as he had wished. The Trade Lords had found a willing ear in the Fire Hawks Chapter. A Fire Hawks vessel entered the Endymion Cluster, a region controlled by the Mantis Warriors, one of the Space Marines Chapters in the Maelstrom Wardens. Refusing to stand down, the ship was crippled and boarded by the Mantis Warriors, with the Fire Hawk still refusing to surrender to Mantis Warrior authority. In the firefight, Astartes fought Astartes, and the war officially begun._

 _Despite their fervor, the Fire Hawks found themselves outnumbered and called for aid from nearby Chapters to punish oath-breakers in the Maelstrom. Their call was answered by the Marines Errant, a chapter with a heavy Strike Cruiser fleet. This forced the Maelstrom Warders to call upon Battlefleet Maelstrom for this obvious insult to their rights and duties as protectors of the Maelstrom Zone._

 _It as a tragic sequence of misunderstandings fueled by pride and oaths of loyalty. In four years the Fire Hawks had seen extremely heavy casualties and Lazaerek, the Chapter Master personally slain by Blackheart's hands. The Marines Errant lost the pride of their fleet. They had no choice but to call for further aid, and the Salamanders sent a small contingent to see what had befallen their successor chapter._

 _And Lugft Huron laughed. Not even a Chapter of the First Founding, a Legion of the Emperor's Great Crusade, would not escape being humiliated. How he ached for more tragic misunderstandings, and prove the power of his new Tyrant Legion._

 _Contrary to how most Space Marines gave thought only to the next battle, Huron Blackheart understood the importance of spies and subtle manipulations. He'd managed to stockpile all that he needed to stalemate the Imperium for a good long while, as long as he kept that careful balance between being as a serious contender and not yet enough of an irritant in the galactic stage._

 _Which in itself was just a smokescreen; he intended the Maelstrom Rift to become lesser fountainhead of Chaos, a Mouth of Terror. A second metastable Warp portal for the Traitor Legions to come out in force, it merited nothing less than being a Daemon Prince! He would stand as an equal among the Primarchs themselves!_

 _It was just even more unfortunate for him that all these spies were eventually suborned, eliminated, or replaced by agents of the Alpha Legion._

 _"To make a long story short..." said Brother-Captain Tidus of the Alpha Legion Strike Cruiser VIRGO, "this could all have been avoided if you had believed us in the first place."_

 _Captain Voras Volmir of the Fire Hawks' tattered Second Company snorted. "Even now I can't be certain you truly are from Omegon's Alpha Legion."_

 _The Fire Hawks had been extremely agressive in their prosecution of the Mantis Warriors, and had fire-bombed three worlds. Their bombing of Manticore had led to the relatively young Forge Worlds of Tedras and Vinculum II to swearing full support to the Maelstrom Wardens in repulsing the Fire Hawks and their allies. Now even the Mechanicus seemed afflicted with schismatic frenzy: no one was being expressly heretical so far, just prideful idiots._

 _Seemingly._

 _"You need not be certain of my identity, but it IS certain that if you continue to act so foolishly, you will be destroyed!" Tidus replied hotly. "You can't prevail over the Mantris Warriors who certainly show more imagination than you, and certainly not against the Astral Claws. They are now to the size of two Great Companies of the Emperor's Legions."_

 _"You would not dare say that in reach of my sword!" the Fire Hawk retorted._

 _"Enough! While you may doubt that Alpha Legion speak the truth, I -am- an agent of the Emperor's Just and Most Holy Inquisition." spoke the old man on the bridge. "I am of the Ordos Skepticus, and you may trust that I am extremely difficult to convince."_

 _"It is not the first time that the Ruinous Powers have operated under the guise of the Inquisition."_

 _"And it is not the time that a Space Marine Chapter was put under Edict of Obliteration! I am a Malcadorian, come here prepared to put the Astral Claws under the sword AND WHEN I SPEAK YOU WILL SHUT YOUR INSEREN MOUTH, ASTARTES! Your actions so far have been worse for the sake of this sector since the last obvious Chaos incursion! Your feral chapter will do just as well under my stamp!"_

 _"Hold!" Captain Ru'Tahn of the Salamaders raised his hands. "This accomplishes nothing."_

 _The single Alpha Legion Strike Cruiser was surrounded by Salamanders and Errant Legion ships. In many ways the Alpha Legion was even less trusted than the Black Legion, so much so that his news had to be delivered over intership communications rather than risk their presence._

 _"We have been manipulated most expertly." Tidus continued, ignoring the outburst. "We have proof, but coming from a 'Cassandra Chapter' as ourselves, it is not enough. So far Huron Blackheart has been acting defensively, and his seizure of the Khartago sector still somewhat excuseable. It has since moved on from an Administratum matter, but the High Lords have ordered that Huron Blackheart must reveal his Chaos taint before true punitive action is delivered."_

 _"A direct assault would do that." Captain Magyar of the Marines Errant spoke up. "Force him to resort to powers heretical. We must strike at Badab, the source of this corruption!"_

 _"Yes, if the Fire Hawks could just be persuaded to leave the Mantis Warriors alone for a while."_

 _"What are you trying to say?" sneered Volmir. "At least we have never once allowed any defeatist mewling to taint our lips."_

 _"I am saying that we might have just found our overt proof of Chaos activity." Tidus concluded dryly._

 _The door to the Salamanders' Strike Cruiser MAGMA BONUM situation room opened and Captain Kirlian of the Black Legion entered. Magyar scowled. It had not been too long since the Marines Errant first met the Black Legion, and since the fleets of the Errant and Lamenters Chapter had avoided each other due to honor-bonds formed in recent Crusades. This left the strike fleet elements of the Black Legion to pick up the slack._

 _Captain Kirlian bowed slightly, recognizing how once more his Chapter was earning grudges. He moved aside to allow the entry of a hooded giant, wrapped in black cloak. The newcomer had to bend down to enter a doorframe already widened to accommodate the size of the Astartes._

ө

= **][** =

ө _  
_

"Readings are going down... down... and is my daughter showing any discomfort?"

"No my Emperor." said Sister Superior Peverell.

"In fact, I would even say this is comforting." Malcador noted. "Look, her little rabbit feet are twitching."

The Sister of Silence scowled at Malcador. "Please do not insult the Princess."

"What? You have to admit, it is sickeningly cute."

A ghost of a smile passed across the Sister's face as she looked towards Serenity again. "Yes, she is... cute." All the Sister of Silence would gladly die for the Emperor, but as she looked into the eyes of her there the concept of guarding the Emperor's Daughter was just... perfect. "And never sickening."

She knew just what fools may assume about the Emperor deciding to form an elite guard composed exclusively of female Nulls, but only now did she come to the full realization of the depth and glory that was the Emperor's plans. It was staggering. Their effect upon the Warp was hardly enough to even touch the vast wellspring of psychic might that was the Emperor.

Shunned and loathed by every human they've ever come across, he was the first to give them true purpose and protection. As part of his retinue they were accepted. To kill lesser psykers that were not worth his attention, it was such a small means of expressing their gratitude for his great gift.

All of them had accepted that this was the best life that could be for such as them, cut off from common humanity, circling the Emperor's light like moths that would burn in his glorious flame.

None of them had even dared to dream he could have more direct use of them. None of them had until that moment considered that their despicable existence could be used to help and protect a psyker.

Six Sisters of Silence stood around Serenity's crib, with wires and sensors wrapped around their heads towards the console that comsumed the Emperor's attention. He looked up and asked "And how do you feel?"

"W-warm, my Emperor."

She wanted to say more, to sing if she could. The Emperor shone so bright that he filled the hollow that was their existence. Serenity could not be anyone but the Emperor's own child- so too did her soul seem to suffuse into their own. But where the Emperor's presence was a fire so bright and so hot that they would laugh even as he burned them all from the inside out, Serenity was a gentler glow, like sunrise over the mountain mists.

"At least you are doing her no harm." Speculatively towards Malcador: "It seems that they are even -incapable- of doing her harm, due to the unique way she processes the Warp. It still bears some watching if as she grows into her power she would cause harm to psychic nulls."

 _'It is something we would gladly suffer!'_ Sister Peverell wanted to shout.

"This could work." Malcador said, nodding. "I wasn't sure how you wanted to handle raising the Moon Rabbit, keep her from turning into some spoiled brat with too much power, but this is so simple it is elegant."

The Emperor's lips twitched. "The Sisters of Silence shall raise Serenity. What better way of disguising her psychic presence, and eventually teach her control lest she cause harm to her mothers?" He turned towards the Sisters who strained to keep their expressions serious. "Can you handle such a responsibility?"

"Oh Emperor yes!" Peverell couldn't stop her outburst. "Um. My apologies, Emperor. Y-yes, I believe we are more than capable. We shall guard her with our lives." All of them wanted to crawl and in tears thank him for his boundless generosity.

The Emperor absently nodded, already concentrating on multilayered plans of securing the Palace and a broad outline for the lesson plans. Serenity would end up inhering the Imperium, better to give him all the free time and resources he would need to advance his Great Work. He had a vision of her all grown up, her hair pulled in two trailing blonde pigtails, and accidentally headbutting an Angel in the chin.

Right. Somene had to teach Serenity about mortal frailty and sympathy for the downtrodden. He had to remind himself that at the moment, she was still but an infant barely more an month old.

"Serenity must experience at least a mother's embrace. No technology shortcuts, she must be raised as I have been raised." That is, natural feeding all the way. For a crystal moment, he caught a glimpse of his own childhood and smiled. There was nothing unusual in being raised by multiple women, sucking from different teats. In those distant days, a family was an entire community. She might not be his natural daughter, but he could still transfer a bit of heritage from humanity's care.

The Emperor looked up and considered the Sisters suppressing Serenity's visions. Serenity would need milk until until near two years old. "We need to get some of you pregnant." he realized.

Synchronized to the second, they all blushed and looked away.

Serenity's face was not serene, but rather delighted. Her tiny little fingers grabbed at the air, trying to claim something only she could see.

ө

= **][** =

ө

 _"I see. So this is your First Company Commander." the Marines Errant muttered to himself. "This explains much."_

 _Larger than even a Terminator, The Captain could only be a Ancient Venerable Dreadnought. The wide barrel-chested pattern of the torso, lack of side plating, the longer legs, and the two arms sheathed in massive Lightning Claws- these were hallmarks of pre-Scattering designs. The flat slopes of Modern Dreadnought armor was slightly tougher and most importantly easier to repair._

 _Dreadnoughts were the finest servants of the Imperium, and their strength and wisdom were not wasted on lesser battles. For the most part they were allowed to slumber away the years. Chaos Dreadnoughts, not allowed such rest, often turned into indiscriminate berserkers._

 _"Ah, Captain. So you still live. Impressive." spoke Inquisitor Jorlana._

 _"My maker built well this shell." The Captain's voice was the deep, authoritative brass common to Dreadnoughts. "It remain unworthy of finding peace."_

 _"Ah, yes. Not until Serenity returns. This makes you the oldest... well, I am not sure if 'living' still applies in your case... warrior in the Imperium. There are many Chapters who believe a long life denotes cowardice."_

 _"They are not Black Legion, and their ignorance is easily forgivable."_

 _The other Astartes there bristled at the implied insult, except for the Salamander who sighed and the Alpha Legion on the screen who smirked._

 _The Captain turned towards the Fire Hawk. "You." his voice rumbled dangerously. Then, faster than even the eyes of an Astartes could follow, impossibly fast for something so huge and covered in metal, Volmir was pinned to the wall behind two inactive Power Claws. "You serve Khorne."_

 _"Lies! Black Legion filth! You are the heretics!"_

 _"It is a surprise to many when_ Khorne _proves the subtlest of the Ruinous Powers. These days."_ _The Captain added softly. "But none knows the ways of Chaos as it does. Do you know who this is?"_

 _Volmir stuggled, his face twisted in hate._

 _"I WILL HAVE YOUR ALLEGIANCE, WORM." The Captain roared, and lights all throughout the ships flickered. Everyone's hearts skipped beats._

 _The Fire Hawk's face hung slack. "Y-yes, my lord. My master, L-"_

 _And then he screamed. Silver light burst out of his eye sockets and he burned from the inside. The insignia of the Fire Hawks on his pauldron peeled off to show the mark of Khorne, which too crackled and burned into silvery dust._

 _An empty suit of Astartes Mk V armor clattered onto the deck._

 _The Captain turned sharply and pointed at Cobalt Magyar with an oustreched claw. "YOU."_

 _A Space Marine knows no fear. This was their primary virtue, to stand where all others falter. What he was feeling then was a reasonably close approximation, _the Marines Errant_ told himself. Under the hood of The Captain's cloak was a sloped Terminator faceplate in the shape of a stylized wolf. A wolf that was missing one eye._

 _"You. Are pure." The Captain judged. "There is no taint of Chaos within you, merely arrogance." Then, he dropped his limb, his hunched posture suddenly weary. He began to shamble towards the door. "Cut it no more with its memories."_

 _"My thanks, Captain." Inquisitor Jorlana said to the departing Black Legion. "In nomine Serena, you may rest again. Second Company commander, remain."_

 _"At your service, Inquisitor." said Kirlian._

 _"And thus we have confirmation. The Fire Hawks have been in collusion with the Astral Claws for quite some time. Two Grand Companies is nearly three thousand Marines, how could the Tyrant have assembled such a force in less than a hundred years? Answer: By covertly supplying other Chapters with fresh geneseed and convincing them to subtly increase the rate they were recruiting Marines. He then traded for their geneseed for his own cultivation, to delay the corruption usually indicative of forced maturation. Unfortunately the Fire Hawks and the Astral Claws were just waiting for the chance to stab each other in the back."_

 _"Recruitment is one thing, but where would he be getting the equipment to outfit his Marines?" Captain Ru'Than asked._

 _"We believe he is being supported by the Dark Mechanicus."_

 _"Troubling."_

 _Typically, Legions of the First Founding were allowed to keep the size of a Great Company, 1200 Astartes. This was, _surprisingly,_ owed to Angron who had shown that if you shout really really loud for some time close to Guilliman's face and laid out just what you wanted in exchange for following his Codex Astartes he was more likely to just avoid the hassle of extended bargaining._

 _Two Great Companies meant about two and a half thousand Space Marines, plus support and vehicles. Dark Mechanicus support tended to mean an abundance of Dreadnoughts and Devastator squads._

 _"No!" Magyar had by then recovered. "You have just murdered an Astartes in front of me, showing off the Chaos taint of these Black Legion heretics, and that constitutes proof? This will not pass! You all are the ones who should be judged!"_

 _Everyone else regarded him with faintly sad look. Finally, Captain Ru'Than spoke "That was no Chaos taint. If he had not given his heart to Chaos, the light would have given him strength rather than burned him for his treason."_

 _"The Black Legion carry the burden of Horus' geneseed." the Inquisitor added in an academic tone. "Yet remember how it was that Horus was defeated. After Serenity brought Terra back after Horus fired off his Planet Killer, she then purged Horus of his Chaos taint. But without his essence of Chaos... Horus was left with nothing."_

 _The Marines Errant scowled disbelievingly. "You cannot mean to tell THAT is Serenity's Light! THAT these scum carry the Living Heart of the Imperium with them into battle!"_

 _"We carry the sin of Horus, and also the peace granted to Horus by Serenity even as she died." Kirlian said with heavy regret. "It is ironic that we carry within us the last echo of Serenity's presence in this universe. No one other than Horus ever experienced a full-powered MOON PRINCESS HALLATION straight to the face. We are still touched by Chaos, but unlike most who fall under the corruption we retain the awareness of the wrongness of our existence. Unlike the Grey Knights, our resistance against Chaos is instinctive knowledge of where and when it pulls. Thus you see that we can pull upon Chaos in turn."_

 _"This is beyond vile! Serenity in such... ugh! Her power mingling with Chaos. Your whole life a blasphemy!"_

 _"We know this. When we die, a little bit of Serenity is returned to the universe. We feed Her Light with the salvation of her people."_

 _"Bah!" The Errant turned to Captain Ru'Than. "Do you believe this tale? Who is this Captain?"_

 _"The Captain has fought by the side of the Emperor and the Primarchs by the Great Crusade. It is only Serenity's Light that keeps him from going mad despite being woken so often."_

 _"His hatred for Chaos is well-documented in the annals of the Inquisition. He must have a strong connection to Horus himself, to bear such strong mark of Her affinity." Inquisitor Jorlana added. "We believe he is either Loken of the Mournival or Hastur Sejanus." He smirked towards Kirlian. "But of course, you will offer not a hint of confirmation, won't you?"_

 _The Black Legion marine shook his head. "Whoever The Captain was is meaningless. Every Black Legion marine has no identity outside of the Legion." He looked towards the screen. "Should we be gossiping about this like some Martian network leech? What is to be done about the Astral Claws?"_

 _"The Astral Claws are to be placed under Requisitio Penita. If they continue to resist submission to being examined, in much the same way this whole debacle begun in the first place... By the Authority of the High Lords of Terra, I hereby order the Black Legion to carry out the Edict of Obliteration. Their assets forfeit, their geneseed to be expunged, if they do not accept Serenity's mercy."_

 _Given the fierce expectation on their expressions, everyone but Kirlian wanted that to happen. He sighed. How so easy the Imperium could turn against itself. As the dominant power in the galaxy, it seems there was challenge greater or more satisfying than itself._

ө

= **][** =

ө

"Stand back!" the Emperor yelled, as he overlaid a shell of protective force over Serenity's wailing. The Sisters of Silence grimaced, forced to their knees by the overpowering feelings of regret and longing pouring from the infant.

"How could a baby even contain these emotions?" Malcador asked, his brow sweating from the effort of keeping the Sisters from spontaneously exploding from the leak.

"She is drawing it from her future self." replied the Emperor. "Hush. Dear child. You are safe, can you hear me? Understand this. You are SAFE. YOU ARE LOVED. You are STILL HERE."

Slowly the pressure subsided.

"Visions... are often a warning, Kadmon." Malcador gasped painfully. He leaned on his staff, his muscles heavy with weariness. "This is a powerful vision. If only we could see what is happening."

The Emperor nodded. "Agreed. I am a fisher of the future, consciously reaching for the one I want to happen. Pallas Serena is a receiver, though that helps us not at this point."

"My Emperor... please..." Peverell whispered laboriously.

"My daughter is unharmed. You have my thanks. Do you understand yet how dangerous is the duty you have too easily claimed for yourselves?"

She grinned fiercely. "She is powerful indeed, my wise master. This is a power that will cause her more pain if she is unable to control it." The Sisters knew well what it meant to be a freak, to be feared and despised beneath the veneer of respect. "I beg you... please allow us. It would be our pleasure... to give her what she needs to live amongst your people."

"Are you not worried about the transferrence of loyalty to hers from you?" Malcador asked. "There is utility in this plan of yours, but emotional attachment is always unpredictable."

"We would never!" the Sisters shouted hotly.

"I appreciate your concern, old friend, but in the end what does it matter? Serenity will hardly stab me in the back. My daughter shall continue my Work, in the end it will be her Imperium. There is more to our task than mere conquest. There is a difference between to rule and to administrate, and in the end we all serve mankind. You can trust MY Vision in this."

"So you say, and let it be done." Malcador groaned and stretched out, grimacing as his joints popped. He turned towards the Sisters of Silence. "My apologies if I have offended you ladies."

As he eas second in authority next to the Emperor, the Sisters bowed their heads in contrition. "No, it is our fault, lord. We beg your forgiveness. We have forgotten our place."

Something flicked across Malcador's face. "Kadmon, this place has so much Warp energy that now -I'm- starting to get visions. Has she calmed down yet?"

The Emperor lowered his hand and his psychic shield. "She is fine."

Serenity's eyes stared out into nothing, but she blinked now and then and her breathing was regular. She was just so intent on something, as babies were sometimes wont to do.

"Ladies, could you go back to your place so we can get back to work." As they moved to the marker disks around the crib, Malcador reconsidered "No, wait, go over there and stand in a line. Facing the crib."

Silently they obeyed. Malcador continued with "Good. Now put your hands over your head. Bend your elbows. No, bring your palms together, open out your fingers. Yes, over there just in front of the topknot. Now a little further out to the side."

The Sisters of Silence looked puzzled. Their head was shaven, except for a tall topknot rising over their skullcap, and a thick long tail of of dyed red hair that was left uncut ever since entering the Emperor's service trailed behind their neck. Their posture was now as if they were about to dive into a pool.

"Good. Now, jut your hips off to the side. To the left. -Your- left! In unison!" Malcador's face was blandly serious. They obeyed without qualm. "Left! Right! Sway more. Excellent. Now open and close your palms in the opposite direction as you sway your hips. Tilt your heads a little more, there must be hair motion, they must sway in rythmn opposite to where your hips are. Right. Left. Right. Left. Yes."

It took a few more tries, but eventually they got the pattern. "Could you smile a bit? No, that's just creepy. Normal expression."

The Emperor's eyes focused again, and he turned away from his calculations. He looked up at the swaying line. "Malcador. You old lech, what are you doing?" The Sisters of Silence stopped awkwardly, fighting back embarrassment.

"What does it look like? Are you going to countermand my orders, oh Emperor?"

He thought that over for a moment. "No. Continue." As the Sisters directed faintly mulish expressions at Malcador, they returned to their strange dance. "This..." and there was a buzzing noise from the panel underneath the Emperor's claw. "This is actually having an effect?"

"If it obeys the theme." Mostly he just wanted to see if they'd actually do it.

"Feedback. Interesting." The Emperor gestured. "Stop. Malcador, get over here." As the Sigilite approached, he pointed to a fluctuating graph on a screen."So in some way she is aware of the present. I could overlay her emotions, or slowly the Sisters of Silence could persuade her about which timeline she should participate in. We need some more data for analysis." Remembering the Sister of Silence, he waved his arm again. "Return to your previous positions. "

Pointedly not looking at each other, the Sisters of Silence went back to their places on the hexagon and put the measuring torcs back on their heads.

The Emperor and Malcador peered at the console readouts. "What about 'fast-forwarding' to the end of this vision by charging her Warp filter with your power?" Malcador asked idly.

The Emperor looked thoughtful for several minutes, then sent out a brief experimental surge. Serenity wailed in fear. Silver fire erupted through the room.

ө

= **][** =

ө

 _A line of black-armored Astartes drew their Force Swords. Silvery Warp power crackled across the edges of their blades. "WE FIGHT EVIL UNDER MOONLIGHT!" they shouted. As one, the Black Legion Fifth Battle Company held up their swords with the hilts over their faceplates._

 _They pointed out into the hell of war. A narrow valley already bore scars and the twisted remains of many war machines. Dark Mechanicus Destriers and Knight-riders leapt upon Space Marines already webbed in melee. This was first battle in the Badab War in which the Tyrant himself appeared, and the Tyrant Legion was proving more than adequate challenge for two Legions of the First Founding._

 _"WE EARN VICTORY BY DAYLIGHT!_

 _TO EVER BATTLE AGAINST THE POWERS RUINOUS!_

 _WE ARE THE ONES KNOWN AS THE BLACK LEGION!"_

 _They slammed into the mass of Astral Claws like a strong wave upon a cliff. Marines were thrown every which way. The colors of the Tyrant Legion were green and gray. They were so very many, and yet had allowed themselves to be trapped into this ancient canyon. The reason why lay above a strange spire within the defile. A seething Warp Gate boiled with powers Chaotic, like an open eye watching this bloodbath._

 _Its pink glow dominated the battlefield. The scattered flares of Bolter rounds and the flashing glow of blades in the night tinged Astartes armor. The only useful illumination came from nearby burning pits of ruined war machines._

 _The Salamanders and their Devastator squads capped both ends of the valley, bottling all combatants. Their primary enemy was the Dark Mechanicus, seeking to break the pin._

 _The battlefield was an exercise in circumlocution. The heart of the conflict was the Altar to Khorne, but not only was it guarded by Huron Blackheart himself, his Terminator retinue, and a Thousand Sons Chaos Sorcerer, but waiting above it was a Dark Mechanicus Warhound._

 _This left a killzone around the altar, at the edges of which the Astral Claws and the Black Legion's battle companies clashed. Beyond this was the killzone of the Black Legion, preventing the Tyrant's forces from breaking out. And beyond these were the battle lines of the Salamanders and Dark Mechanicus. They Salamanders repulsed waves of assaults while attempting to open up the enemy's fire barriers to bring in their weapons capable of harming a Titan._

 _Captain Kirlian too leapt into the fray. Slashing and stabbing, everyone had come to the realization that this was a battle could not be solved with suppression fire. The Warp Gate was no portal to allow the Tyrant Legion to leave, it could bring only a select chosen few into the Maelstrom. The rest of the Astral Claws had not earned that dark blessing, and thus they had to break out of this trap on their own. Of course, the loyalists could hardly let Huron Blackheart escape._

 _There was a hard boom of displaced air, and the Assault Terminator Squad of First Company arrived; Deep Striking too close to the Warhound's legs for its cannons. While the Titan stepped back for a clear shot, the Tyrant's own Terminators flung cutting streams of assault cannon fire downstream. The shells sparked off Storm Shields as the Black Legion charged._

 _"BLACK LEGION! IN NOMINE LUNA! TO PAX SERENITAS!"_

 _"TYRANT LEGION! SPILL THE MAELSTROM! FOR THE DARK GODS!" screamed the Astral Claws, sending out their own assault squads, armed appropriately enough with Lightning Claws, backed by heavy Bolter fire._

 _The Black Legion Terminators carried Force Pikes rather than Thunder Hammers, long spears eerily similar to those that that Emperor's own Custodes carried. Attacking Astral Claws were impaled or disemboweled. The reach of their weapons slowed them down in pitched close combat however. Only The Captain managed to push ahead the weight of numbers, since his Relic Lightning Claws provided both offense and defense in a far less cumbersome package. The claws and assorted body parts of the Astral Claws fell apart against his expert sweeps._

 _By this time the Dark Titan had extended its own minimum range. Its Plasma Blastgun spoke, spitting out a glob of blue sunfire, exploding immolating all within the last killzone. Terminators roared as they were thrown into the air._

 _"I almost did not believe it. You really do not even swear to the Emperor, but to someone who couldn't even leave a corpse." Huron Blackheart laughed. "If you seek the peace of Serenity, then go! Die with your useless weakling Princess! The Imperium will be better rid of useless creed!"_

 _Kirlian momentarily paused. He could hardly believe his ears. Lufgt Huron had said that unencrypted into the Astartes comm net. "Even more pathetic is the level of his taunting!" he shouted to his battle-brothers. "Ignore this idiocy and push forward!"_

 _To no avail. They were driven to berserk fury. Warp energy crackled around them, and silver fire crackled over their shoulders. They were on fire, and everything that they touched was soon on fire as well. All was right._

 _"Is this really the best you can do? The reputations of the Emperor's own penitent Legion has been vastly overstated! You were fools to turn away from the power offered by Chaos!" He brandished the sword Impukcharai at the crumpled forms of the Black Legion's most elite warriors. Even The Captain, still clad in his monk-like cloak, struggled to get back to his knees. "All for what? A weepy little woman who would have given away everything that all the Emperor worked for!"_

 _The Captain stood up, his massive frame shaking with malice. "Silence." he rumbled dangerously. "A galaxy that knows Serenity, a galaxy in peace... it is the greatest gift the Emperor could give to humanity."_

 _Huron Blackheart laughed again. "What use is there in peace? You've all grown weak! A pox on Serenity!"_

 _The Captain roared lunged with his claws outstretched. Straight into a stream of Vulcan Mega-Bolter fire._

 _The wicked chains that could chrew through Superheavy tanks ripped across the battlefield, blasting into the rock of the valley. Through the kicked-up dust, The Captain stumbled and fell. No Dreadnought armor was a match for Titan weapons._

 _But The Captain's armor was barely armor at all. His shroud was already in tatters, and as he forced himself back to his feet, it ripped free entirely. Rather than coolant and components, it was thick red blood that dripped down the cracks in his torso._

 _His faceplate was gone, his nose was bleeding. By the rents in his armor, he taken bursts of Vulcan Megabolter fire straight on. Impossibly, he still endured. "No..." he wheezed as he felt his broken ribs. He had none of the enhancements of the Astartes, his every organ like that of any normal man. His life and his destiny was writ large in the skein of the galaxy in pain. "Not yet... not to die. Not from something like this. NO, KHORNE. NO YOU SHUT UP."_

 _"Captain!" Kirlian shouted from below. "In name of the Emperor's Mercy and the Peace of Serenity, for the sake of this galaxy under threat, you are given leave to do what takes to bring that traitor to justice!"_

 _The Captain still hesitated. His breathing calmed down, and the red glow from behind his eyes faded to silver, then to the eyes of a man who had seen far too much across too many worlds. "There is no honor in this."_

 _Kirlian parried the attacks of three Astral Claws at once. "Your honor means nothing! Will you not defend the honor of our Princess?"_

 _The Captain nodded. "She would forgive. It... no. -I- will not." He forced himself back to his feet and faced the Warhound. His wounds bled heavily, liters of blood reflecting the glow of the Plasma Blastgun above him. "01101110 00110000 00110000 01100010!" he spat._

 _The Warhound growled and spat back sunfire. As the bright flash blinded everyone, it followed through with its Vulcan Megabolters. Seemingly enraged, it slashed away at the base of the spire, until it was completely covered with thick, shard-flecked smoke and dust._

 _The smoke wafted out, like a living creature crawling through the canyon floor. It wrapped around the Scout Titan's ankles and suddenly the Warhound found itself being wrenched to the ground. It struggled, and there was a heavy crack. One of its legs was torn free from the hip socket. There was a thunderous clang. It was being clubbed over the head with its own limb._

 _Clang. Clang. Clang. The air around it shimmered to show its ineffective Void Shields. Hit after hit the Warhound's armor deformed. Clang. Until, mercifully, its head fell right off. The Dark Mechanicus pilots were nothing more than sheets of augemetics and rivulets of goop sandwiched between thick layers of metal and machinery._

 _The Captain walked up the steps, the dark dust billowing around him like a rising dragon._

 _The Captain sneered contemptuously, and pressed a latch over each of his Lightning Claws. The Relic weapons dropped, leaving him with nothing more than his bare hands as weapons. Slowly he began peeling off the useless armor over his body. Naked from the waist up, it was the closest to a fair fight he could give to a Chapter Master filled with the blessing of Chaos._

 _"Wonderful! Chaos hear my thanks! " As a Chapter Master, Huron had access to the latest mark Astartes Armor, now enhanced with the technological witcheries of the Dark Mechanicus. He laughed again, his voice pitching up in glee, and gestured to his retinue. "Kill him! KILL HIM IF YOU CAN!"_

 _All the rest of the Astral Claws on the spire charged down._

 _A Tyrant Chaos Terminator leapt towards the Captain, Power Axe held high. The Captain caught it by the blade, the matter-disrupting Power Field sparking in his palm. With his other hand he palmed the Terminator's face, and dug in. His fingers broke through armor, into brains, and effortlessly collapsed the Marine's head in._

 _With an easy flick as if the suit of Tactical Dreadnought Armor was no more than a toy, he tossed it aside. Not once did his expression change from cold hatred._

 _The other Marines saw no wisdom in attacking one by one and leapt right off the steps to drag him to the ground with their combined weight. The Captain grabbed the nearest and used him as bat to sweep away the rest. "I give your death to the Emperor. May He show the mercy that She cannot give." he whispered to the shaken Astral Claw. Then he flung that Terminator up high into the cliffs._

 _The look of glee on Huron's Blackheart's face only intensified. "... now comes the time to test my capacity. Accept this tribute! CHAOS FILL ME WITH GLORY!"_

 _His daemonsword cut into The Captain's forearms. The Tyrant stabbed down, taking clear advantage of higher ground. The Captain was taller than the Chapter Master, but his enemy remained out of reach. He had enough to deal with in keeping the point of the blade from poking his eyes out._

 _Huron Blackheart was looking down upon him, both literally and figuratively. Chaos liked to test their new champions against him. Through thousands of years, The Captain had weathered the egoes and ambitions of thousands of fools. There was that look of triumphant bloodlust in Lufgt Huron's face. He brought nothing new to The Captain's long and tortured life._

 _The Captain ducked, and rather than attack the Tyrant, drove his palms into the rock of the ancient spire's stairs. This was the problem with most Chaos Champions; The Captain remembered, give them power and they tend to lose attention. Too long unchallenged, feeling they had hit the wall of their personal prowess, they instead forget the worth of their skills._

 _Even he at the furthest extent of his power, had no shortage of people willing and able to punch him in the face. As Huron Blackheart lost his balance, and a look of bewildred fear replaced the frenzy, The Captain spared himself a smile. He flicked out his left arm to grab the daemonsword by the hilt, and crushed the Tyrant's forearm into paste under his palm. The daemon within the blade screamed._

 _The blade fell off, tumbling down into the shrouded depths of the pillar's base. "Gurk!" Lufgt Huron struggled for breath as The Captain held him aloft by the throat._

 _"No more of your slander." he whispered dangerously. "In name of the moon. I will punish you."_

 _Luft Huron kicked against The Captain's chest and got free, as a blast of Warp lightning scoured the Black Legion's side. The Captain grimaced in pain, but already the sword-cuts from earlier had healed completely. Above, the Chaos Sorcerer poured the curses of the Warp into a steady lashing even as he shouted for Lufgt Huron to finish his task._

 _Huron Blackheart flew from a backhand strike, and slammed into a pillar of rock atop the spire. It collapsed over him. That by itself would not have bothered a Space Marine, but The Captain's little finger had carved straight through his armor and nearly disemboweled him from shoulder to hip._

 _Such viciousness. Such relentless power._

 _Only one word could contain it. Huron Blackheart laughed through blood-stained teeth. "...p-primarch."_

 _Zargoz, Chaos Sorcerer of the Thousand Sons, placed himself between The Captain and Huron Blackheart. "Flee now, fool." he said to the Tyrant. "You have not yet the strength to prevail against him."_

 _Huron Blackheart continued to chuckle, even as his lungs filled with blood. "N-not yet. But soon." He limped towards the Warp Portal and its evil glow seemed to seep into his bones. He drew strength from its cursed whispers._

 _The Captain was only momentarily delayed by the poisonous Warp field around the spire's top. He seemed to drink in the boiling energies, the field parting in his passing._

 _"You hear their welcoming whispers, do you not? So much effort spent in just trying to seal away powers that are ever yours for the taking." The tip of Zargoz' bone-wreath staff burned with dark power as he readied himself for battle. "I would have you know this is an honor." he said to the Captain. "Magnus himself has decreed that my death be upon your hands."_

 _A low growl came from The Captain's throat, and he surged forward to flatten the Chaos Sorcerer even as he sought to reach the Tyrant of Badab. To no avail. Even a being of his stature could be thrown off by a Warp wall. Adapting quickly, he landed right in front of the Thousand Sons Sorcerer._

 _He remembered how it was that Magnus in his quest to unravel the mysteries of Serenity's existence, had fallen so easily to the promises of Chaos._

 _"Chaos seeks not total victory, lord." Zargoz' oily voice didn't budge a quaver even as his arms were torn off their sockets. "Chaos still has some affection for you. Total victory against the Imperium would give an end to this endless, entertaining war between us. You are now the last, you know this?"_

 _He flung his burning amputated torso against the Captain, delaying him for just the crucial second to let Huron Blackheart enter the portal and render the seige futile. It flickered out. The Captain snarled at his failure and turned his full attention to the Sorcerer._

 _And now his legs were gone. Zardoz fell onto the stumps, rolling wormlike to face his tormentor. "You cannot defeat Chaos as you are. Serenity is a lie. That smug fool seeks to stand amongst the Primarchs, but you in time could have stood beside the Gods!"_

 _The Captain punched down, his fist moving with such speed and power as to shatter the night air with a shockwave. Around the cairn's base, battling Astartes in Terminator armor were blown off their feet. His fist was sunk to the elbow into the ground and through the Sorcerer's plastron._

 _Then the whole rocky column began to collapse._

 _Yet even as they fell and with most of his chest gone, Zargoz managed to gurgle out "As long as you deny... the power that is your birthright, we... wolves... gladly and... easily... devour her flock..."_

 _The Captain tore him apart and once on mostly solid ground stomped on the remains for good measure. He look to the stars and roared incoherently. His rage rent the sky asunder and cogitators of the Dark Mechanicus, attuned to chaotic Warp flows that jump aside normal processing cycles, sparked and died. His despair, his regret, they were viscous in the Warp, burning daemonic Warp creatures observing the battlefield._

 _And then, abruptly, he stopped. His shoulders slumped. Yet one more failure that he had to redress. One more he had proven to himself that power alone meant nothing, no one even of collosal power can master a galaxy. Even the Emperor knew this, and that why he had made the Primarchs and the Astartes._

 _"Only Serenity can heal this galaxy..." he said to the stars. "Peace unto you, wherever you may be, sister beloved by us all." he said softly towards the night sky. At least one world was free of the traitor's taint. "These people will suffer no more. In time they will heal."_   
_Then, his posture sagged again. The power and the fury left him, and for his physical might he was again a tired and broken man. "This is in no way enough to earn my forgiveness."_

 _The Captain left the broken corpse and nudged a Titan's leg out of his way. He searched for something he could use as a cloak. The moonlight, even if was not Luna's glow, the feel of it was heinous upon his skin. The moon's light was symbolic of Serenity, the sunlight the Emperor. He had his own reasons for avoiding such brilliance. There was no place dark enough that he could crawl, no shadow deep enough to cover his stigma, but at least he could put something over his face._

 _He settled for having his long black hair fall over his face, like Conrad Kurze did when in his dark Night Haunter moods. He moved slowly down the rubble of the altar spire and didn't there was silence on the battlefield. All eyes were upon him._

 _Seeing the cowardly retreat of their leader, the Astral Claws paused even in the midst of mellee. Not a few were eviscerated for this intentional opening. It was as if a heavy cloud was lifted, and Astartes on both sides of the conflict regarded each other with reluctant reappraisal._

 _Images of Horus had been torn down throughout the Imperium, and not in old shared monuments to the Primarchs were spared. Where it was necessary to show the Heresy at its height, Horus had always been depicted as viewed from the back or as a vile corrupted face of Chaos. The Emperor's visage was familiar to many._

 _The Captain had an eerie resemblance to the Emperor's divine features. That was something shared by only eighteen other beings known to the Imperium._

 _Kirlian approached the weary giant. "Lupercal." he spoke firmly, equal to equal._

 _"I failed." The Captain replied mournfully._

 _"You are not forgiven, but it is excusable. We have achieved our broad objectives in laying siege to this world. " He carried a large Black Legion campaign flag torn off its pole. There was no honor in offering it, everyone in the Black Legion was fine with it even if someone were to use their flag as a cleaning rag. "What is to be done with these stragglers?"_

 _The Captain put it over himself, taking a deep relieved breath as he did so, and shook his head. "I am not worthy to speak of anyone's repentance. If you wish to slay them all, do as you please. If you wish to see who can be saved, that is your choice."_

 _"You are still Captain of the First Company. We would hear gladly your voice."_

 _For ten thousand years you have suffered for the Imperium, and us who suffer with you... we are not Sons of Horus, but we would gladly call him brother. This was what he wanted to say. We choose to stand with you, and you are not alone in your long vigil. We too believe that someday we may all earn Serenity._

 _The Captain shook his head and brushed past him. "No. I am nothing. Without her, I remain nothing."_

 _The surviving Astral Claws First Company Terminators dropped to their knees. "Only now do we realize the extent of our sins. Divine Primarch, if it would please you to see us die, then we accept it."_

 _"No. Rise! Do not bow to me. Never to me." The Captain growled as more and more Astral Claws either dropped in total surrender or turned their weapons on themselves. "Damn you all. I deserve no such respect."_

 _Kirlian looked around. The secret of The Captain's true identity was nevertheless easy to keep. He knew that far too many of these Astartes would choose death over accepting Serenity's peace. They might try to seek penance even as just bonded chapter-serfs to the Black Legion, but even that would be denied them. Mutely accepting their fate was not the way of the Black Legion, much as it might appear that way. They had to struggle from the inwards out for their own redemption, it would not be so easily given. He tried to be glad, that at least they had been saved from falling completely into Chaos._

 _Only those who had taken the full brunt of Chaos its temptations and walked out with their soul intact could become part of the Black Legion. To become part of the Black Legion was also to have one's own geneseed ripped out to be replaced with Horus' own. Anyone who was trying to join the Black Legion for that peculiar honor of serving a living Primarch was doing it for the entirely wrong reasons and would be burned alive by the flames of contrition._

 _"You have done the Imperium a great service here today!" Kirlian shouted at his back. Huron Blackheart may have fled, but perhaps now this wasteful schism may end. "Even if nothing can earn your absolution, we can at least recognize the honor of your having done your duty well."_

 _"I seek no honors." spoke The Captain of the Black Legion. In a softer voice "To hear my precious sister's laughter would be worth everything." His shrouded slouch lowered some more, like a hunchbacked minion in old borderline heretic holos, even as the Space Marines in his path scampered to give way._

 _The Black Legion fought that in death they may be forgiven. He had no such relief. It was a deeper wound, his shameful secret, that he had already been forgiven. She had forgiven him even as she faded away in his arms. He would forever be unworthy._

ө

= **][** =

ө

The Emperor and the Sisters of Silence were unharmed. The equipment were worthless wrecks. Malcador rolled on the floor a few more times and got up, limping on staff. In the middle of the room, the crib as undamaged. Within it, little Serenity looked around, awake and fully aware of her surroundings. She reached out for the Emperor as he approached, and he gingerly picked her up.

"And now she is laughing." Or as far as babies could laugh, anyway, in an ack-ack-ack series of squeals. "Why is she laughing?" The Emperor turned towards Malcador. "Do something funny."

"You cannot possibly be serious."

The Emperor held up a hooked finger of his Power Claw. "Note. Serious. Face."

Malcador sighed. He leaned towards the child and stuck out his tongue. "Booga! Booga! Booga!"

Serenity's face turned serious. She was deeply unimpressed. Disinterested, she curled into the Emperor's thumb and closed her eyes. Soon enough her breathing evened out into sleep.

"Not as I intended, but good work old friend." The Emperor carefully put her back into the crib.

Malcador was old, and had his own share of grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Sometimes, behind the Emperor's cold ruthless and bloody-minded ambition, Malcador still felt he was dealing with the ultimate among self-centered and irrepressibly curious children. "Blood relations or not, already I can see the family resemblance. I swear to you, when she reaches adolescence, I am going to take a LONG vacation. See how you deal with it all alone, then!"

"I could order you not to, I suppose. I did endure -your- whiny rebellious stage."

"With all due respect, my Emperor. Be stuffed." If she was anything like him or the Emperor, it would be a hyperactive headache-filled adolescence that would last centuries.

The Emperor chuckled. He'd been doing that more often these days.

"Are we done? Is her power now sealed?"

"Yes, we are done." The Emperor tapped lightly the Lunar Tiara express-delivered from Mars. One of the most powerful psychic dampeners ever made, it helped filter the impressions constantly bombarding her mind. He smiled slightly. Where he would bring order and majesty, Serenity would bring life and delight. A new and bountiful galaxy in peace waited for all mankind.

Bowing to the Emperor and giving the child one last considering look, Malcador walked out the Palace Creche. He was ever more certain that while good may come from a softer approach than what he and Emperor had decided long ago, there would be yet much more unforeseen suffering before it could come to pass.

ө

= **][** =

ө

* * *

author notes:

Bleh. It feels a suppressor is a bit too plot device-y, but then I remembered this was both SM and 40k. It would be a far greater departure from their themes if there wasn't some doohickey to complicate things later. Anyway, please remember that Lovehammer has many different continuities, and if you don't like Serenity being given some semblance of a normal childhood there are others where she's being a rambunctious bundle of joy to the Custodes. Check the parent thread for this over at spacebattles.

And now a bonus! There was a hole in the timeline last chapter, to fill it up:

* * *

ө

= **][** =

ө

Old as the Emperor was, he was still subject to whims and moods. It was just that these tended to last for centuries on end. He longer dreamed, though he still set aside a few hours a day for a sleep cycle and introspection. It was a bargain he'd made with himself long ago. His every waking moment was devoted to mankind, but he needed also time for 'himself'. Such a mind as his, specially with his powers over time, could live out lucid lives and craft universes out from the dark. It was also easier to contact others through dreams when he himself was in a dream state.

Malcador had noticed through long association that even the Emperor could get (even more) flaky if he chose to forego even but days of sleep. The Emperor was his own worst enemy, and did not take the the breach of a contract lightly. Ever since the child arrived, the Emperor was so excited by the new possibilities that he hadn't a chance to step back and let things play out beyond even his control.

Three days after finding Serenity, and with several more weeks before the formal celebration to commorate his supreme rule over all Terra, homeworld of mankind, and thereafter all of mankind again, the Emperor had barged into Malcador's room and yelled "We! Are going! To Mars!"

He was in full armor, golden glow, the whole shebang. The pack of noblewomen shrieked and tried to cover themselves. The Emperor's presence put them into orgiastic bliss more than... the orgy they were just in. Malacador gestured for them to go, and they scampered like rabbits. The old psyker groaned and raised both hands. He snapped his fingers. His robes appeared over his head and he let gravity do the rest.

"What in The Cage, Kadmon? I do not disturb your sleep with paperwork, you could at least not disrupt my own private cycles! I am no apprentice you can just toss into a Dragon's Mouth, I have administrative stresses too that must be unwound! Can you not allow me time to relax (away from you) now that our war is won (and now I have to clean up the messes you made, You damn you)?"

"Meh." was the word. The Emperor turned and began to make his way over to the starport.

Malcador had no choice but to follow. The Sigilite was muttering something about "... this is going to be like that time you sent me out fishing for babel, isn't it?"

= **][** =

"So why are we going to Mars so soon?" Malcador asked as they boarded a Stormbird. "Have you not scheduled this some twenty years down the line so Terra can be of sufficient strength to force the issue if they resist? Give them time to inspect your Work to form their own expectations as to your status as a techno-preserver?"

"I have decided that a 'soft sell' would work just as well. My plans can afford being delayed, as now I must spend at least fifty years to make sure Serenity is raised and trained properly. Coincidentally, now is also when both Phobos and Deimos are at perigree. Their industrial base is needed for the task of babyproofing Terra."

"I am certain that in your unmatched wisdom this all makes sense to you, Emperor. But I am but a fraction of your intellect and I have no idea what the hell you are saying. Perhaps you should sleep on it."

The Emperor's lips twitched in a slight grin. "I have. I had a dream old friend. I dreamed of my ancestors, and of my own childhood as a goatherder in Anatolia. The mountains spoke to me again. Do you realize what this means?"

Malcador had to bite his tongue to keep the obvious retort from escaping his lips. "No, I do not. Uh. Congratulations?"

The Emperor nodded, pleased. "I dreamed of two roads, winding and rising around cliffs and over hills. Running on each the other road I saw myself. I knew then that these were the Rules that Govern the Fate of Mankind. The Rules are Changing, seeking to dominate each other, and the fate of all humanity in flux. I saw in the distance that the roads forked, two paths each, diverging out and and meeting in the middle to form a third path. I knew then that there would be a collision, for I, myself, will not give way even to myself. I, for the first time, shall face A Choice that is My Own. In the end it can be an event that is inspiring, or amusing, or as I dare call it... awesomefun. Do you understand what I am saying?"

Malcador was gripping his staff with both hands and was apparently forcing himself to pretend it was bolted to the floor. "No, my Emperor, I am... sad... to say I do not. Please do not explain."

"You are shielding your mind from me, old friend. That does dishearten me. Be honest. What do you think? Dreams are always open to interpretation."

"No, I have no need to know. I will trust you and be secure that you will continue to well for all mankind do as you are able. It... is not as if this is going to change your habits, is it?"

The Emperor looked thoughtful. "No, not at all. The future for myself unfolds as it will."

"Lovely." Malcador sighed.

= **][** =

While it was true that the Warp Storms of Old Night did isolate many worlds all across the galaxy, Sol was not exactly trapped. On occasion the AdMech sent out explorator fleets, which set up new Forge Worlds should they survive. Terra itself had its own ships, and many fortunes rested on travels made when the Warp was calmer. The Tech-Priests of Mars had little need for trade, and thus the rare ship that manages to break through into Sol tended to crash-land and set up new dynasties on Terra; still the largest, wealthiest, and most populous Hive-World for lightyears around.

The Emperor would have directed the industrial output of Terra, one that could easily rival the red planet if properly managed, into the construction of a vast and finely-designed starship- the first in a long, long time capable of distant and safe Warp transit. It would have technologies that Mars would have forgotten, secrets locked safe and undistorted in the peerless mind that designed them in the first place.

For the moment, they did have a much less impressive but nonetheless functional ship, one seized from the Mechanicus in their last raid upon Terra. He had no problem remotely shutting down the Martian orbital defenses, since the security holes he laid into the STC patterns so long ago still remained in the kernels.

Taymon Verticorda was, as in his previous vision, was the one to first see and to greet his return to the red planet. Brother Veriticorda was young, just a Squire of Taranis, and rode Castanea Tractus; an older training Knight-mount. In many ways this served the Emperor just as well.

" **I sense your machine has its difficulties, Taymon Verticorda.** " spoke the Emperor, laying on thick the omnipresence. He laid his massive gloved hand over the stylized equine head and said " **Machine, heal thyself**."

Subtle vibrations surged through the mount's flesh and steel existence, humming through its armored frame of plasteel and ceramite. As the young Squire of Taranis took a reflexive step back, he felt his mount's quick and free movement as if it was fresh off the factory.

"Whoa." was the young man's awestruck exclamation. "Hax."

The Emperor blinked. That was not what he'd been expecting.

= **][** =

It was a risk, the Emperor knew, but he was not asking for their recognition as the Omnissiah yet. It was easy enough to add the interpretation that 'coming from heaven in drops of rain' could mean restarting the lost terraforming engines upon Mars. Rather than the shock and awe approach, he was going to let them butt heads against his depth of knowledge until they realized that he was the architect of their past and the shaper of their futures.

The Forge Masters of Mars had gathered to inspect this interloper from Terra. The Emperor waited serenely as they drank in the implications of his presence. He was waiting for the question " _So you are the Emperor of Mankind? Such a grandiose title. Do you mean to say that we too must bend our knee to you? By what right do you claim this authority?_ "

He was prepared to say _'by reason and ability'_. He would pass their tests. He would insinuate himself thoroughly into their culture, leaving no room for the Void Dragon to get its hooks in. No one would be able to accuse him of enslaving the Mechanicus to his will after beating their faces in thoroughly and scholastically. They would see he had tested them in turn as they had tested him, and be relieved they had proven ready.

Kelbor-Hal, Forge Master of Olympus Mons, was a large red-cloaked figure whose face was now but a tangle of augmetic bundles and glowing apertures. Free from the doubts of the flesh, could this creature even consider itself 'human'?

His voice was a machine buzz. "Omnissiah, I wish to file a bug report."

Twice now caught by surprise, the Emperor retorted " **What**."

It translated into 01110111 01110100 01100110 straight into what remained of their flesh-born brains. The Forge Masters excitedly filled the noosphere in discussion amongst themselves and then it was if a dam was broken when he sarcastically added " **Sure why not**."

The Emperor soon found himself answering a barrage of questions, even in reflex his replies were without fail. Only later did he begin to get an awareness of what answers his subconscious was supplying to ever-more increasingly absurd lines of inquiry.

 **"That is because you keep on forgetting to comment your code."**

 **"Electrum can also mean amber. Try a crystalline layout."**

 **"No, it is perfectly normal for global network throughput to spontaneously consist of over forty percent pornography. Slaanesh has nothing to do with it."**

 **"No, THAT is a C≠ compiler. Your Warhounds are running on Reticulate‡, which is an astonishing accomplishment in of itself."**

 **"The Etheric Principle is not working for you because you are not wearing a tophat and monocle."**

 **"The STC Chamber and the Matrix of Leadership are two different things entirely!"**

" **You bastards cannot possibly be completely taking everything I say seriously, are you?** "

Koriel Zeth, Mistress of Magma City, raised a ferro-sculpted hand. "In the interests of accuracy, I am a bitch."

Sometime during this exchange for some reason, Malcador had set the Magos Biologis' face on fire.

" **Enough!** " The Emperor pointed to the assembly of the finest and most fervent minds of the Mechanicum. His glorious golden glow had visibly diminished, but his eyes were burning white-hot. " **I... appreciate... your excellent analysis. Your acceptance of the situation. Compile a faq for easier access to the problems and solutions you require. But for now, I! Am going back. To Terra. I shall return... soon.** "

And with a burst of power, he had in a split-second flung himself through millions of kilometers to appear on a landing platform of Hive Brasil. His left cheek twitched.

Beside him, piggybacking on the Warp shunt, Malcador hobbled to face his master. "This is how I feel, Kadmon." he spoke in a pained hush, the Sigilite's expression wide-eyed and nearly feral. "ALL THE TIME."

= **][** =

* * *

Please remember, that all these wackiness? This was still around when Horus and the Primarchs were up and about. Trolling each other is apparently how they bond. In Lovehammer, **everybody** is the straight man to **_somebody else_**.

And then... it's gone.

And only one person really remembers what it meant to have Serenity. It didn't mean stasis and peace at all costs; it was a wild time full of bickering and schemes and awful food and demigods acting all too foolish and all too human. They exulted in their flaws, rather than excise them.

:(

Horus has a sad.


End file.
